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From contemporary syntax to human language’s deep origins



On the island of Java, in Indonesia, the silvery gibbon, an endangered primate, lives in the rainforests. In a behavior that’s unusual for a primate, the silvery gibbon sings: It can vocalize long, complicated songs, using 14 different note types, that signal territory and send messages to potential mates and family.
Far from being a mere curiosity, the silvery gibbon may hold clues to the development of language in humans. In a newly published paper, two MIT professors assert that by re-examining contemporary human language, we can see indications of how human communication could have evolved from the systems underlying the older communication modes of birds and other primates.
From birds, the researchers say, we derived the melodic part of our language, and from other primates, the pragmatic, content-carrying parts of speech. Sometime within the last 100,000 years, those capacities fused into roughly the form of human language that we know today.
But how? Other animals, it appears, have finite sets of things they can express; human language is unique in allowing for an infinite set of new meanings. What allowed unbounded human language to evolve from bounded language systems?
“How did human language arise? It’s far enough in the past that we can’t just go back and figure it out directly,” says linguist Shigeru Miyagawa, the Kochi-Manjiro Professor of Japanese Language and Culture at MIT. “The best we can do is come up with a theory that is broadly compatible with what we know about human language and other similar systems in nature.”
Specifically, Miyagawa and his co-authors think that some apparently infinite qualities of modern human language, when reanalyzed, actually display the finite qualities of languages of other animals — meaning that human communication is more similar to that of other animals than we generally realized.
“Yes, human language is unique, but if you take it apart in the right way, the two parts we identify are in fact of a finite state,” Miyagawa says. “Those two components have antecedents in the animal world. According to our hypothesis, they came together uniquely in human language.”
Introducing the ‘integration hypothesis’
The current paper, “The Integration Hypothesis of Human Language Evolution and the Nature of Contemporary Languages,” is published this week in Frontiers in Psychology. The authors are Miyagawa; Robert Berwick, a professor of computational linguistics and computer science and engineering in MIT’s Laboratory for Information and Decision Systems; and Shiro Ojima and Kazuo Okanoya, scholars at the University of Tokyo.
The paper’s conclusions build on past work by Miyagawa, which holds that human language consists of two distinct layers: the expressive layer, which relates to the mutable structure of sentences, and the lexical layer, where the core content of a sentence resides. That idea, in turn, is based on previous work by linguistics scholars including Noam Chomsky, Kenneth Hale, and Samuel Jay Keyser.
The expressive layer and lexical layer have antecedents, the researchers believe, in the languages of birds and other mammals, respectively. For instance, in another paper published last year, Miyagawa, Berwick, and Okanoya presented a broader case for the connection between the expressive layer of human language and birdsong, including similarities in melody and range of beat patterns.
Birds, however, have a limited number of melodies they can sing or recombine, and nonhuman primates have a limited number of sounds they make with particular meanings. That would seem to present a challenge to the idea that human language could have derived from those modes of communication, given the seemingly infinite expression possibilities of humans.
But the researchers think certain parts of human language actually reveal finite-state operations that may be linked to our ancestral past. Consider a linguistic phenomenon known as “discontiguous word formation,” which involve sequences formed using the prefix “anti,” such as “antimissile missile,” or “anti-antimissile missile missile,” and so on. Some linguists have argued that this kind of construction reveals the infinite nature of human language, since the term “antimissile” can continually be embedded in the middle of the phrase.
However, as the researchers state in the new paper, “This is not the correct analysis.” The word “antimissile” is actually a modifier, meaning that as the phrase grows larger, “each successive expansion forms via strict adjacency.” That means the construction consists of discrete units of language. In this case and others, Miyagawa says, humans use “finite-state” components to build out their communications.
The complexity of such language formations, Berwick observes, “doesn’t occur in birdsong, and doesn’t occur anywhere else, as far as we can tell, in the rest of the animal kingdom.” Indeed, he adds, “As we find more evidence that other animals don’t seem to posses this kind of system, it bolsters our case for saying these two elements were brought together in humans.”
An inherent capacity
To be sure, the researchers acknowledge, their hypothesis is a work in progress. After all, Charles Darwin and others have explored the connection between birdsong and human language. Now, Miyagawa says, the researchers think that “the relationship is between birdsong and the expression system,” with the lexical component of language having come from primates. Indeed, as the paper notes, the most recent common ancestor between birds and humans appears to have existed about 300 million years ago, so there would almost have to be an indirect connection via older primates — even possibly the silvery gibbon.
As Berwick notes, researchers are still exploring how these two modes could have merged in humans, but the general concept of new functions developing from existing building blocks is a familiar one in evolution.
“You have these two pieces,” Berwick says. “You put them together and something novel emerges. We can’t go back with a time machine and see what happened, but we think that’s the basic story we’re seeing with language.”
Andrea Moro, a linguist at the Institute for Advanced Study IUSS, in Pavia, Italy, says the current paper provides a useful way of thinking about how human language may be a synthesis of other communication forms.
“It must be the case that this integration or synthesis [developed] from some evolutionary and functional processes that are still beyond our understanding,” says Moro, who edited the article. “The authors of the paper, though, provide an extremely interesting clue at the formal level.”
Indeed, Moro adds, he thinks the researchers are “essentially correct” about the existence of finite elements in human language, adding, “Interestingly, many of them involve the morphological level — that is, the level of composition of words from morphemes, rather than the sentence level.”
Miyagawa acknowledges that research and discussion in the field will continue, but says he hopes colleagues will engage with the integration hypothesis.
“It’s worthy of being considered, and then potentially challenged,” Miyagawa says.

From contemporary syntax to human language’s deep origins

On the island of Java, in Indonesia, the silvery gibbon, an endangered primate, lives in the rainforests. In a behavior that’s unusual for a primate, the silvery gibbon sings: It can vocalize long, complicated songs, using 14 different note types, that signal territory and send messages to potential mates and family.

Far from being a mere curiosity, the silvery gibbon may hold clues to the development of language in humans. In a newly published paper, two MIT professors assert that by re-examining contemporary human language, we can see indications of how human communication could have evolved from the systems underlying the older communication modes of birds and other primates.

From birds, the researchers say, we derived the melodic part of our language, and from other primates, the pragmatic, content-carrying parts of speech. Sometime within the last 100,000 years, those capacities fused into roughly the form of human language that we know today.

But how? Other animals, it appears, have finite sets of things they can express; human language is unique in allowing for an infinite set of new meanings. What allowed unbounded human language to evolve from bounded language systems?

“How did human language arise? It’s far enough in the past that we can’t just go back and figure it out directly,” says linguist Shigeru Miyagawa, the Kochi-Manjiro Professor of Japanese Language and Culture at MIT. “The best we can do is come up with a theory that is broadly compatible with what we know about human language and other similar systems in nature.”

Specifically, Miyagawa and his co-authors think that some apparently infinite qualities of modern human language, when reanalyzed, actually display the finite qualities of languages of other animals — meaning that human communication is more similar to that of other animals than we generally realized.

“Yes, human language is unique, but if you take it apart in the right way, the two parts we identify are in fact of a finite state,” Miyagawa says. “Those two components have antecedents in the animal world. According to our hypothesis, they came together uniquely in human language.”

Introducing the ‘integration hypothesis’

The current paper, “The Integration Hypothesis of Human Language Evolution and the Nature of Contemporary Languages,” is published this week in Frontiers in Psychology. The authors are Miyagawa; Robert Berwick, a professor of computational linguistics and computer science and engineering in MIT’s Laboratory for Information and Decision Systems; and Shiro Ojima and Kazuo Okanoya, scholars at the University of Tokyo.

The paper’s conclusions build on past work by Miyagawa, which holds that human language consists of two distinct layers: the expressive layer, which relates to the mutable structure of sentences, and the lexical layer, where the core content of a sentence resides. That idea, in turn, is based on previous work by linguistics scholars including Noam Chomsky, Kenneth Hale, and Samuel Jay Keyser.

The expressive layer and lexical layer have antecedents, the researchers believe, in the languages of birds and other mammals, respectively. For instance, in another paper published last year, Miyagawa, Berwick, and Okanoya presented a broader case for the connection between the expressive layer of human language and birdsong, including similarities in melody and range of beat patterns.

Birds, however, have a limited number of melodies they can sing or recombine, and nonhuman primates have a limited number of sounds they make with particular meanings. That would seem to present a challenge to the idea that human language could have derived from those modes of communication, given the seemingly infinite expression possibilities of humans.

But the researchers think certain parts of human language actually reveal finite-state operations that may be linked to our ancestral past. Consider a linguistic phenomenon known as “discontiguous word formation,” which involve sequences formed using the prefix “anti,” such as “antimissile missile,” or “anti-antimissile missile missile,” and so on. Some linguists have argued that this kind of construction reveals the infinite nature of human language, since the term “antimissile” can continually be embedded in the middle of the phrase.

However, as the researchers state in the new paper, “This is not the correct analysis.” The word “antimissile” is actually a modifier, meaning that as the phrase grows larger, “each successive expansion forms via strict adjacency.” That means the construction consists of discrete units of language. In this case and others, Miyagawa says, humans use “finite-state” components to build out their communications.

The complexity of such language formations, Berwick observes, “doesn’t occur in birdsong, and doesn’t occur anywhere else, as far as we can tell, in the rest of the animal kingdom.” Indeed, he adds, “As we find more evidence that other animals don’t seem to posses this kind of system, it bolsters our case for saying these two elements were brought together in humans.”

An inherent capacity

To be sure, the researchers acknowledge, their hypothesis is a work in progress. After all, Charles Darwin and others have explored the connection between birdsong and human language. Now, Miyagawa says, the researchers think that “the relationship is between birdsong and the expression system,” with the lexical component of language having come from primates. Indeed, as the paper notes, the most recent common ancestor between birds and humans appears to have existed about 300 million years ago, so there would almost have to be an indirect connection via older primates — even possibly the silvery gibbon.

As Berwick notes, researchers are still exploring how these two modes could have merged in humans, but the general concept of new functions developing from existing building blocks is a familiar one in evolution.

“You have these two pieces,” Berwick says. “You put them together and something novel emerges. We can’t go back with a time machine and see what happened, but we think that’s the basic story we’re seeing with language.”

Andrea Moro, a linguist at the Institute for Advanced Study IUSS, in Pavia, Italy, says the current paper provides a useful way of thinking about how human language may be a synthesis of other communication forms.

“It must be the case that this integration or synthesis [developed] from some evolutionary and functional processes that are still beyond our understanding,” says Moro, who edited the article. “The authors of the paper, though, provide an extremely interesting clue at the formal level.”

Indeed, Moro adds, he thinks the researchers are “essentially correct” about the existence of finite elements in human language, adding, “Interestingly, many of them involve the morphological level — that is, the level of composition of words from morphemes, rather than the sentence level.”

Miyagawa acknowledges that research and discussion in the field will continue, but says he hopes colleagues will engage with the integration hypothesis.

“It’s worthy of being considered, and then potentially challenged,” Miyagawa says.

Filed under language birdsong evolution linguistics psychology neuroscience science

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Like father, not like son
The song of songbirds is a learned, complex behavior and subject to strong selective forces. However, it is difficult to tease apart the influence of the genetic background and the environment on the expression of individual variation in song. Scientists from the Max Planck Institute for Ornithology in Seewiesen in collaboration with international researchers now compared song and brain structure of parents and offspring in zebra finches that have been raised either with their genetic or foster parents. They also varied the amount of food during breeding. Remarkably, both song and the underlying brain structure had a low heritability and were strongly influenced by environmental factors.
A central topic in behavioral biology is the question, which aspects of a behavior are learned or expressed due to genetic predisposition. Today it is known that our personality and behavior are far less determined by the genetic background. Especially during development environmental factors can shape brain and behavior via so-called epigenetic effects. Thereby hormones play an important role. A shift in hormone concentrations in early life can have long lasting effects for an organism, whereas the same change in adults often may show only short-term changes. However, whether the influence of the environment has either strong or weak effects can largely depend on the individual genetic predisposition. However, it is relatively hard to discriminate the effects of the environment from that of the genes.
An attempt to tease apart these effects has been conducted by researchers from the Max Planck Institute for Ornithology in collaboration with an international team of scientists in zebra finch breeding pairs. Using partial cross-fostering the researchers exchanged half of the eggs within a nest making them to “cuckoo’s eggs”. Therefore half of the hatchlings were raised by their genetic parents, whereas the other half was raised by their foster parents. In addition they modified the availability of food by mixing the seeds with husks so that the parents had to spend more time searching for food. When the male offspring were adult at 100 days the researchers recorded their songs and analyzed the underlying neuroanatomy. This partial cross-fostering design enabled the researchers to tease apart the involvement of genotype, the rearing environment and nutritional effects to variation in song behavior and brain structure.
The results showed that heritability values were low for most song characteristics, except the number of song syllables and maximum frequency. On the other hand the common rearing environment including the song of the foster father mainly predicted the proportion of unique syllables in the songs of the sons, moreover this relationship was dependent on food availability. Even more striking results were found when the researchers investigated the brain anatomy. Heritability of brain variables was very low and strongly controlled by the environment. For example, an emergence of a clear relationship between brain mass and genotype is prevented by varying environmental quality.
This result was quite surprising as previous studies have found a high heritability of the song control system in the songbird brain, however these studies did not account for variation of the rearing environment. ”Being highly flexible in response to environmental conditions can maintain genetic variation and influences song learning and brain development” says Stefan Leitner, senior author of the study.

Like father, not like son

The song of songbirds is a learned, complex behavior and subject to strong selective forces. However, it is difficult to tease apart the influence of the genetic background and the environment on the expression of individual variation in song. Scientists from the Max Planck Institute for Ornithology in Seewiesen in collaboration with international researchers now compared song and brain structure of parents and offspring in zebra finches that have been raised either with their genetic or foster parents. They also varied the amount of food during breeding. Remarkably, both song and the underlying brain structure had a low heritability and were strongly influenced by environmental factors.

A central topic in behavioral biology is the question, which aspects of a behavior are learned or expressed due to genetic predisposition. Today it is known that our personality and behavior are far less determined by the genetic background. Especially during development environmental factors can shape brain and behavior via so-called epigenetic effects. Thereby hormones play an important role. A shift in hormone concentrations in early life can have long lasting effects for an organism, whereas the same change in adults often may show only short-term changes. However, whether the influence of the environment has either strong or weak effects can largely depend on the individual genetic predisposition. However, it is relatively hard to discriminate the effects of the environment from that of the genes.

An attempt to tease apart these effects has been conducted by researchers from the Max Planck Institute for Ornithology in collaboration with an international team of scientists in zebra finch breeding pairs. Using partial cross-fostering the researchers exchanged half of the eggs within a nest making them to “cuckoo’s eggs”. Therefore half of the hatchlings were raised by their genetic parents, whereas the other half was raised by their foster parents. In addition they modified the availability of food by mixing the seeds with husks so that the parents had to spend more time searching for food. When the male offspring were adult at 100 days the researchers recorded their songs and analyzed the underlying neuroanatomy. This partial cross-fostering design enabled the researchers to tease apart the involvement of genotype, the rearing environment and nutritional effects to variation in song behavior and brain structure.

The results showed that heritability values were low for most song characteristics, except the number of song syllables and maximum frequency. On the other hand the common rearing environment including the song of the foster father mainly predicted the proportion of unique syllables in the songs of the sons, moreover this relationship was dependent on food availability. Even more striking results were found when the researchers investigated the brain anatomy. Heritability of brain variables was very low and strongly controlled by the environment. For example, an emergence of a clear relationship between brain mass and genotype is prevented by varying environmental quality.

This result was quite surprising as previous studies have found a high heritability of the song control system in the songbird brain, however these studies did not account for variation of the rearing environment. ”Being highly flexible in response to environmental conditions can maintain genetic variation and influences song learning and brain development” says Stefan Leitner, senior author of the study.

Filed under learning birdsong epigenetic effect evolution environment zebra finches

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How Birds and Babies Learn to Talk

Few things are harder to study than human language. The brains of living humans can only be studied indirectly, and language, unlike vision, has no analogue in the animal world. Vision scientists can study sight in monkeys using techniques like single-neuron recording. But monkeys don’t talk.
However, in an article published in Nature, a group of researchers, including myself, detail a discovery in birdsong that may help lead to a revised understanding of an important aspect of human language development. Almost five years ago, I sent a piece of fan mail to Ofer Tchernichovski, who had just published an article showing that, in just three or four generations, songbirds raised in isolation often developed songs typical of their species. He invited me to visit his lab, a cramped space stuffed with several hundred birds residing in souped-up climate-controlled refrigerators. Dina Lipkind, at the time Tchernichovski’s post-doctoral student, explained a method she had developed for teaching zebra finches two songs. (Ordinarily, a zebra finch learns only one song in its lifetime.) She had discovered that by switching the song of a tutor bird at precisely the right moment, a juvenile bird could learn a second, new song after it had mastered the first one.
Thinking about bilingualism and some puzzles I had encountered in my own lab, I suggested that Lipkind’s method could be useful in casting light on the question of how a creature—any creature—learns to put linguistic elements together. We mapped out an experiment that day: birds would learn one “grammar” in which every phrase followed the form of ABCABC, and then we would switch things up, giving them a new target, ACBACB (the As, Bs, and Cs were certain stereotyped chirps and peeps).
The results were thrilling: most of the birds could accomplish the task. But it was clearly difficult—it took several weeks for them to learn the new grammar—and it was challenging in a particular way. While the birds showed no sign of needing to relearn individual sounds, the connections between individual syllables, known as “transitions,” proved incredibly difficult. The birds proceeded slowly and systematically, incrementally working out each transition (e.g., from C to B, and B to A). They could not freely move syllables around, and did not engage in trial and error, either. Instead, they undertook a systematic struggle to learn particular connections between specific, individual syllables. The moment they mastered the third transition of the sequence, they were able to produce the entire grammar. Never, to my knowledge, had the process of learning any sort of grammar been so precisely articulated.
We wrote up the results, but Nature declined to publish them. Then Dina and Ofer speculated that our findings might be more convincing if they were true for not only zebra finches (hardly the Einsteins of the bird world) but for other species as well. Ofer contacted a Japanese researcher, Kazuo Okanoya, who he thought might be able to gather data for Bengalese finches, which have a more complex grammar than zebra finches. Amazingly, the Bengalese finches followed almost exactly the same learning pattern as the zebra finches.
Then we decided to test our ideas about the incrementality of vocal learning in human infants, enlisting the help of a graduate student I had been working with at N.Y.U., Doug Bemis. Bemis and Lipkind analyzed an old, publicly available set of human-babbling data, drawn from the CHILDES database, in a new way. The literature said that in the later part of the first year of life, babies undergo a change from “reduplicated” babbling—repeating a syllable, like bababa—to “variegated” babbling—often switching between syllables, like babadaga. Our birdsong results led us to wonder whether such a change might be more piecemeal than is commonly presumed, and our examination of the data proved that, in fact, the change did not happen all at once. It was gradual, with new transitions worked out one by one; human babies were stymied in the same ways that the birds were. Nobody had ever really explained why babbling took so many months; our birdsong data has finally yielded a first clue.
Today, almost five years after Lipkind and Tchernichovski began developing the methods that are at the paper’s core, the work is finally being published by Nature.
What we don’t yet know is whether the similarity between birds and babies stems from a fundamental similarity between species at the biological level. When two species do something in similar ways, it can be a matter of “homology,” a genuine lineage at the genetic level, or “analogy,” which is independent reinvention. It will likely be years before we know for sure, but there is reason to believe that our results are not purely an accident of independent invention. Some of the important genes in human vocal learning (including FOXP2, the gene thus far most decisively tied to human language) are also involved in avian vocal learning, as a new book, “Birdsong, Speech, and Language,” discusses at length.
Language will never be as easy to dissect as birdsong, but knowledge about one can inform knowledge about the other. Our brains didn’t evolve to be easily understood, but the fact that humans share so many genes with so many other species gives scientists a fighting chance.

How Birds and Babies Learn to Talk

Few things are harder to study than human language. The brains of living humans can only be studied indirectly, and language, unlike vision, has no analogue in the animal world. Vision scientists can study sight in monkeys using techniques like single-neuron recording. But monkeys don’t talk.

However, in an article published in Nature, a group of researchers, including myself, detail a discovery in birdsong that may help lead to a revised understanding of an important aspect of human language development. Almost five years ago, I sent a piece of fan mail to Ofer Tchernichovski, who had just published an article showing that, in just three or four generations, songbirds raised in isolation often developed songs typical of their species. He invited me to visit his lab, a cramped space stuffed with several hundred birds residing in souped-up climate-controlled refrigerators. Dina Lipkind, at the time Tchernichovski’s post-doctoral student, explained a method she had developed for teaching zebra finches two songs. (Ordinarily, a zebra finch learns only one song in its lifetime.) She had discovered that by switching the song of a tutor bird at precisely the right moment, a juvenile bird could learn a second, new song after it had mastered the first one.

Thinking about bilingualism and some puzzles I had encountered in my own lab, I suggested that Lipkind’s method could be useful in casting light on the question of how a creature—any creature—learns to put linguistic elements together. We mapped out an experiment that day: birds would learn one “grammar” in which every phrase followed the form of ABCABC, and then we would switch things up, giving them a new target, ACBACB (the As, Bs, and Cs were certain stereotyped chirps and peeps).

The results were thrilling: most of the birds could accomplish the task. But it was clearly difficult—it took several weeks for them to learn the new grammar—and it was challenging in a particular way. While the birds showed no sign of needing to relearn individual sounds, the connections between individual syllables, known as “transitions,” proved incredibly difficult. The birds proceeded slowly and systematically, incrementally working out each transition (e.g., from C to B, and B to A). They could not freely move syllables around, and did not engage in trial and error, either. Instead, they undertook a systematic struggle to learn particular connections between specific, individual syllables. The moment they mastered the third transition of the sequence, they were able to produce the entire grammar. Never, to my knowledge, had the process of learning any sort of grammar been so precisely articulated.

We wrote up the results, but Nature declined to publish them. Then Dina and Ofer speculated that our findings might be more convincing if they were true for not only zebra finches (hardly the Einsteins of the bird world) but for other species as well. Ofer contacted a Japanese researcher, Kazuo Okanoya, who he thought might be able to gather data for Bengalese finches, which have a more complex grammar than zebra finches. Amazingly, the Bengalese finches followed almost exactly the same learning pattern as the zebra finches.

Then we decided to test our ideas about the incrementality of vocal learning in human infants, enlisting the help of a graduate student I had been working with at N.Y.U., Doug Bemis. Bemis and Lipkind analyzed an old, publicly available set of human-babbling data, drawn from the CHILDES database, in a new way. The literature said that in the later part of the first year of life, babies undergo a change from “reduplicated” babbling—repeating a syllable, like bababa—to “variegated” babbling—often switching between syllables, like babadaga. Our birdsong results led us to wonder whether such a change might be more piecemeal than is commonly presumed, and our examination of the data proved that, in fact, the change did not happen all at once. It was gradual, with new transitions worked out one by one; human babies were stymied in the same ways that the birds were. Nobody had ever really explained why babbling took so many months; our birdsong data has finally yielded a first clue.

Today, almost five years after Lipkind and Tchernichovski began developing the methods that are at the paper’s core, the work is finally being published by Nature.

What we don’t yet know is whether the similarity between birds and babies stems from a fundamental similarity between species at the biological level. When two species do something in similar ways, it can be a matter of “homology,” a genuine lineage at the genetic level, or “analogy,” which is independent reinvention. It will likely be years before we know for sure, but there is reason to believe that our results are not purely an accident of independent invention. Some of the important genes in human vocal learning (including FOXP2, the gene thus far most decisively tied to human language) are also involved in avian vocal learning, as a new book, “Birdsong, Speech, and Language,” discusses at length.

Language will never be as easy to dissect as birdsong, but knowledge about one can inform knowledge about the other. Our brains didn’t evolve to be easily understood, but the fact that humans share so many genes with so many other species gives scientists a fighting chance.

Filed under birdsong language language development zebra finches vocal learning neuroscience science

360 notes

How human language could have evolved from birdsong

Linguistics and biology researchers propose a new theory on the deep roots of human speech.

image

“The sounds uttered by birds offer in several respects the nearest analogy to language,” Charles Darwin wrote in “The Descent of Man” (1871), while contemplating how humans learned to speak. Language, he speculated, might have had its origins in singing, which “might have given rise to words expressive of various complex emotions.”

Now researchers from MIT, along with a scholar from the University of Tokyo, say that Darwin was on the right path. The balance of evidence, they believe, suggests that human language is a grafting of two communication forms found elsewhere in the animal kingdom: first, the elaborate songs of birds, and second, the more utilitarian, information-bearing types of expression seen in a diversity of other animals.

“It’s this adventitious combination that triggered human language,” says Shigeru Miyagawa, a professor of linguistics in MIT’s Department of Linguistics and Philosophy, and co-author of a new paper published in the journal Frontiers in Psychology.

The idea builds upon Miyagawa’s conclusion, detailed in his previous work, that there are two “layers” in all human languages: an “expression” layer, which involves the changeable organization of sentences, and a “lexical” layer, which relates to the core content of a sentence. His conclusion is based on earlier work by linguists including Noam Chomsky, Kenneth Hale and Samuel Jay Keyser.

Based on an analysis of animal communication, and using Miyagawa’s framework, the authors say that birdsong closely resembles the expression layer of human sentences — whereas the communicative waggles of bees, or the short, audible messages of primates, are more like the lexical layer. At some point, between 50,000 and 80,000 years ago, humans may have merged these two types of expression into a uniquely sophisticated form of language.

“There were these two pre-existing systems,” Miyagawa says, “like apples and oranges that just happened to be put together.”

These kinds of adaptations of existing structures are common in natural history, notes Robert Berwick, a co-author of the paper, who is a professor of computational linguistics in MIT’s Laboratory for Information and Decision Systems, in the Department of Electrical Engineering and Computer Science.

“When something new evolves, it is often built out of old parts,” Berwick says. “We see this over and over again in evolution. Old structures can change just a little bit, and acquire radically new functions.”

A new chapter in the songbook

The new paper, “The Emergence of Hierarchical Structure in Human Language,” was co-written by Miyagawa, Berwick and Kazuo Okanoya, a biopsychologist at the University of Tokyo who is an expert on animal communication.

To consider the difference between the expression layer and the lexical layer, take a simple sentence: “Todd saw a condor.” We can easily create variations of this, such as, “When did Todd see a condor?” This rearranging of elements takes place in the expression layer and allows us to add complexity and ask questions. But the lexical layer remains the same, since it involves the same core elements: the subject, “Todd,” the verb, “to see,” and the object, “condor.”

Birdsong lacks a lexical structure. Instead, birds sing learned melodies with what Berwick calls a “holistic” structure; the entire song has one meaning, whether about mating, territory or other things. The Bengalese finch, as the authors note, can loop back to parts of previous melodies, allowing for greater variation and communication of more things; a nightingale may be able to recite from 100 to 200 different melodies.

By contrast, other types of animals have bare-bones modes of expression without the same melodic capacity. Bees communicate visually, using precise waggles to indicate sources of foods to their peers; other primates can make a range of sounds, comprising warnings about predators and other messages.

Humans, according to Miyagawa, Berwick and Okanoya, fruitfully combined these systems. We can communicate essential information, like bees or primates — but like birds, we also have a melodic capacity and an ability to recombine parts of our uttered language. For this reason, our finite vocabularies can generate a seemingly infinite string of words. Indeed, the researchers suggest that humans first had the ability to sing, as Darwin conjectured, and then managed to integrate specific lexical elements into those songs.

“It’s not a very long step to say that what got joined together was the ability to construct these complex patterns, like a song, but with words,” Berwick says.

As they note in the paper, some of the “striking parallels” between language acquisition in birds and humans include the phase of life when each is best at picking up languages, and the part of the brain used for language. Another similarity, Berwick notes, relates to an insight of celebrated MIT professor emeritus of linguistics Morris Halle, who, as Berwick puts it, observed that “all human languages have a finite number of stress patterns, a certain number of beat patterns. Well, in birdsong, there is also this limited number of beat patterns.”

Birds and bees

Norbert Hornstein, a professor of linguistics at the University of Maryland, says the paper has been “very well received” among linguists, and “perhaps will be the standard go-to paper for language-birdsong comparison for the next five years.”

Hornstein adds that he would like to see further comparison of birdsong and sound production in human language, as well as more neuroscientific research, pertaining to both birds and humans, to see how brains are structured for making sounds.

The researchers acknowledge that further empirical studies on the subject would be desirable.

“It’s just a hypothesis,” Berwick says. “But it’s a way to make explicit what Darwin was talking about very vaguely, because we know more about language now.”

Miyagawa, for his part, asserts it is a viable idea in part because it could be subject to more scrutiny, as the communication patterns of other species are examined in further detail. “If this is right, then human language has a precursor in nature, in evolution, that we can actually test today,” he says, adding that bees, birds and other primates could all be sources of further research insight.

MIT-based research in linguistics has largely been characterized by the search for universal aspects of all human languages. With this paper, Miyagawa, Berwick and Okanoya hope to spur others to think of the universality of language in evolutionary terms. It is not just a random cultural construct, they say, but based in part on capacities humans share with other species. At the same time, Miyagawa notes, human language is unique, in that two independent systems in nature merged, in our species, to allow us to generate unbounded linguistic possibilities, albeit within a constrained system.

“Human language is not just freeform, but it is rule-based,” Miyagawa says. “If we are right, human language has a very heavy constraint on what it can and cannot do, based on its antecedents in nature.”

(Source: web.mit.edu)

Filed under brain evolution linguistics communication language birdsong neuroscience science

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Birdsong study pecks at theory that music is uniquely human
A bird listening to birdsong may experience some of the same emotions as a human listening to music, suggests a new study on white-throated sparrows, published in Frontiers of Evolutionary Neuroscience.
“We found that the same neural reward system is activated in female birds in the breeding state that are listening to male birdsong, and in people listening to music that they like,” says Sarah Earp, who led the research as an undergraduate at Emory University.
For male birds listening to another male’s song, it was a different story: They had an amygdala response that looks similar to that of people when they hear discordant, unpleasant music.
The study, co-authored by Emory neuroscientist Donna Maney, is the first to compare neural responses of listeners in the long-standing debate over whether birdsong is music.
“Scientists since the time of Darwin have wondered whether birdsong and music may serve similar purposes, or have the same evolutionary precursors,” Earp notes. “But most attempts to compare the two have focused on the qualities of the sound themselves, such as melody and rhythm.”
Earp reviewed studies that mapped human neural responses to music through brain imaging.
She also analyzed data from the Maney lab on white-throated sparrows. The lab maps brain responses in the birds by measuring Egr-1, part of a major biochemical pathway activated in cells that are responding to a stimulus.
The study used Egr-1 as a marker to map and quantify neural responses in the mesolimbic reward system in male and female white-throated sparrows listening to a male bird’s song. Some of the listening birds had been treated with hormones, to push them into the breeding state, while the control group had low levels of estradiol and testosterone.
During the non-breeding season, both sexes of sparrows use song to establish and maintain dominance in relationships. During the breeding season, however, a male singing to a female is almost certainly courting her, while a male singing to another male is challenging an interloper.
For the females in the breeding state every region of the mesolimbic reward pathway that has been reported to respond to music in humans, and that has a clear avian counterpart, responded to the male birdsong. Females in the non-breeding state, however, did not show a heightened response.
And the testosterone-treated males listening to another male sing showed an amygdala response, which may correlate to the amygdala response typical of humans listening to the kind of music used in the scary scenes of horror movies.
“The neural response to birdsong appears to depend on social context, which can be the case with humans as well,” Earp says. “Both birdsong and music elicit responses not only in brain regions associated directly with reward, but also in interconnected regions that are thought to regulate emotion. That suggests that they both may activate evolutionarily ancient mechanisms that are necessary for reproduction and survival.”
A major limitation of the study, Earp adds, is that many of the regions that respond to music in humans are cortical, and they do not have clear counterparts in birds. “Perhaps techniques will someday be developed to image neural responses in baleen whales, whose songs are both musical and learned, and whose brain anatomy is more easily compared with humans,” she says.

Birdsong study pecks at theory that music is uniquely human

A bird listening to birdsong may experience some of the same emotions as a human listening to music, suggests a new study on white-throated sparrows, published in Frontiers of Evolutionary Neuroscience.

“We found that the same neural reward system is activated in female birds in the breeding state that are listening to male birdsong, and in people listening to music that they like,” says Sarah Earp, who led the research as an undergraduate at Emory University.

For male birds listening to another male’s song, it was a different story: They had an amygdala response that looks similar to that of people when they hear discordant, unpleasant music.

The study, co-authored by Emory neuroscientist Donna Maney, is the first to compare neural responses of listeners in the long-standing debate over whether birdsong is music.

“Scientists since the time of Darwin have wondered whether birdsong and music may serve similar purposes, or have the same evolutionary precursors,” Earp notes. “But most attempts to compare the two have focused on the qualities of the sound themselves, such as melody and rhythm.”

Earp reviewed studies that mapped human neural responses to music through brain imaging.

She also analyzed data from the Maney lab on white-throated sparrows. The lab maps brain responses in the birds by measuring Egr-1, part of a major biochemical pathway activated in cells that are responding to a stimulus.

The study used Egr-1 as a marker to map and quantify neural responses in the mesolimbic reward system in male and female white-throated sparrows listening to a male bird’s song. Some of the listening birds had been treated with hormones, to push them into the breeding state, while the control group had low levels of estradiol and testosterone.

During the non-breeding season, both sexes of sparrows use song to establish and maintain dominance in relationships. During the breeding season, however, a male singing to a female is almost certainly courting her, while a male singing to another male is challenging an interloper.

For the females in the breeding state every region of the mesolimbic reward pathway that has been reported to respond to music in humans, and that has a clear avian counterpart, responded to the male birdsong. Females in the non-breeding state, however, did not show a heightened response.

And the testosterone-treated males listening to another male sing showed an amygdala response, which may correlate to the amygdala response typical of humans listening to the kind of music used in the scary scenes of horror movies.

“The neural response to birdsong appears to depend on social context, which can be the case with humans as well,” Earp says. “Both birdsong and music elicit responses not only in brain regions associated directly with reward, but also in interconnected regions that are thought to regulate emotion. That suggests that they both may activate evolutionarily ancient mechanisms that are necessary for reproduction and survival.”

A major limitation of the study, Earp adds, is that many of the regions that respond to music in humans are cortical, and they do not have clear counterparts in birds. “Perhaps techniques will someday be developed to image neural responses in baleen whales, whose songs are both musical and learned, and whose brain anatomy is more easily compared with humans,” she says.

Filed under music birdsong neural response reward system sparrows neuroscience science

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Baby songbirds learn to sing by imitation, just as human babies do. So researchers at Harvard and Utrecht University, in the Netherlands, have been studying the brains of zebra finches—red-beaked, white-breasted songbirds—for clues to how young birds and human infants learn vocalization on a neuronal level.
While a baby bird mimicking the chirps of his “tutor” may seem far removed from human learning, the researchers at the two universities found that the songs of the birds and human language are both processed in similar areas on the left sides of the two very different brains. The discovery was published last month in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.

Baby songbirds learn to sing by imitation, just as human babies do. So researchers at Harvard and Utrecht University, in the Netherlands, have been studying the brains of zebra finches—red-beaked, white-breasted songbirds—for clues to how young birds and human infants learn vocalization on a neuronal level.

While a baby bird mimicking the chirps of his “tutor” may seem far removed from human learning, the researchers at the two universities found that the songs of the birds and human language are both processed in similar areas on the left sides of the two very different brains. The discovery was published last month in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.

Filed under birds evolution neuroscience science lateralization vocalization language brain birdsong

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