The increased abstraction of language in human interactions is palpable phenomenon, but the impacts of it are incredibly difficult to assess in any useful fashion. However, we can extrapolate from our everyday experiences some general characteristics of the fluid development of words and ideas, for the purpose of evaluating their influence (positive or negative) on human society.

We can probably agree on the truism that homo sapiens originally existed in a state of non-mediated interactions; other animals do not (as a general rule—there are some arguable exceptions) communicate on any level other than the personal. Personal interactions include verbal and nonverbal signifiers shared between one or more individuals in close proximity, and in most instances these interactions are contextually-dependent, e.g. “look at that” with the appropriate accompanying gesture. Taken in a vacuum, most of these exchanges would convey essentially no meaning to a third party, but this can be viewed as a side effect of their functional purpose: as an adaptation, communication’s first role is to enable a coordinated and informed response to a shared situation or dilemma.

Demonstrably, we have gone far beyond the initial purpose of communication, because of the inextricability of language from cultural influences. In many instances, the origination of a word or phrase is not present in our mind when we use it: “goodbye” as a parting phrase is a shortened version of the traditional “god be with ye,” which is often abbreviated into simply “bye”—clearly a nonsensical expression when taken in the scope of its original meaning. More generally, language has enabled us to convey and conceive of abstract concepts, both scientific and theoretical, as the areas of mathematics and philosophy can verify in spades.

As a result of this trend toward greater abstraction (which can be encapsulated in the transition from Newtonian physics to relativity and quantum theory), humans have opened up virtually limitless avenues of understanding. In fact (though this is not always the case), linguistically-framed hypotheses often seem to be the necessary prerequisites for the development of concrete scientific conclusions; atomism as a theory originated not in a laboratory, but with the Greek philosopher Democritus thousands of years ago. For the same reason that ideas must first be proposed in order for us to examine them, language can serve as a formidable barrier to development of new modes of understanding. Our convenient notions of the workings of the world are quite frequently framed in logical fallacies and traditional preconceptions, and our attachment to philosophical ideas may inadvertently exclude other useful possibilities. 

In the area of science, this can be seen in the division of fields between chemistry, physics, and biology, though optimally all branches of science would work in cohesion—notably, attempts are underway to fuse scientific theories into a total package in areas such as molecular biology, but the synergistic outcome we had hoped for still continues to elude us.

In a less scientific sense, our convenient linguistic delineations between fields of social study are perplexing. One can get a general idea of what “sociology” or “anthropology” is, but it is often baffling (at least to me) how one could study one without the other. In fact, I would argue that one of the most limiting factors to the field of sociology is its general lack of historical perspective, a function that anthropology would serve quite nicely. 

Certainly, an anthropologist or a sociologist could refer to concepts present in the other field, but there is no consistent format for combining divergent areas of study, and as such these references often seem tacked on and inconsistent. More importantly, if I (as a political science major) elect to quote psychologists or philosophers in my papers, it seems probable that my intended audience will be as unlearned in these subjects as I am, and the point will therefore go unexamined, whether or not it is correct or actually has any bearing to the matter at hand.

The point here is not that we should lump our fields of study together in some untenable theoretical mish-mash, but that by defining them as “this, not this,” we tend to exclude possibilities and unintentionally prohibit possible positive synergistic theories from emerging. This is also the case when we participate in identity politics, stating “I am ___.” No person fits so neatly into a label that we could expect to find some meaning in it; even seemingly unavoidable labels, such as “black” reduce the identity of individuals who may share very few characteristics to a self-perpetuating tautology.

So here’s the rub: the use of language is only beneficial insofar as it does not reduce our mindset to totalizing labels. 

There is no simple formula that can be prescribed in order to avoid the exclusive nature of “this, not that,” but I can at least suggest taking a look at the “not” side of the equation more often.

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