If you’re a linguist: well, why?

One thing that stands out about the life of the professional linguist is what Chomsky has the responsibility of intellectuals, to “speak to the truth and to expose lies”, in this case uncomfortable truths about language and its role in society. Certainly this responsibility—and privilege, as Chomsky also points out—is inspiration for many linguists. But other motives abound. I for one am more drawn to learning about (an admittedly narrow corner) of human nature than I am to speaking truth to power, and most likely would have ended in some other area of social science had I not discovered the field. And there’s nothing wrong with a linguist who is most of all drawn to little logic puzzles, so long as these puzzles are ultimately grounded in those questions about human nature. (I do reject, categorically, those who say that linguists ought to be doing nothing than “Word Sudoku” or “Wordle with more steps”. Maybe there are people who work solely in those modes, and if so I wish them a very happy alt-ac career transition.)

I think the truths about human nature uncovered by the epistemology-obsessed generativists—including those of the armchair variety—has something to say about the proper organization of society. But one is more likely to get such messages from sociolinguists. Sociolinguists correctly point out that we have unexamined, corrosive ideologies about language, languages, and their speakers that are mostly contrary to the liberal values most of us profess, and they certainly are well-positioned to speak these truths. That said, I do not agree with an often-implicit assumption that sociolinguistics is somehow a more noble vocation than other topics in the field. The “discourse” on this is often fought as a proxy war over hiring: e.g., one I’ve heard before is “Why doesn’t MIT’s linguistics faculty include a sociolinguist?” First off, it sort of does: it includes one of the world’s foremost creolists, who has written extensively about the role of creole studies in neocolonialism and white supremacy. Whether or not a creolist is a sociolinguist is probably more a matter of self-identity than one of observable fact, but there’s no question that creole studies has a lot to give to—but also a both a lot to answer for on—the problem of linguistic equality. Should the well-rounded linguist have studied sociolinguistics? Absolutely. But there are probably many other areas, topics, or even theories you think that any well-rounded linguist ought to have studied but which are not required or widely taught, and these rarely provoke such discourse.

One of the most memorable books I’ve read over the last decade or so is Mark Fisher’s Capitalist Realism: Is There No Alternative? (2009). The book is a slim, 81-page pamphlet describing the feeling that “not only is capitalism the only viable political and economic system, but also that it is now impossible even to imagine a coherent alternative to it.” As Fisher explains, a lot of ideological work is done to prevent us from imagining alternatives, including the increasingly capitalist sheen of anti-capitalism, and there are a few areas—the overall non-response to climate change and biosphere-scale threats, for example—where capitalist realism ideology has failed to co-opt dissent, suggesting at least the possibility of an alternative on the horizon, even if Fisher himself does not imagine or present one.

A very clear example of capitalist realism can be found in the ethical altruism (EA) movement, which focuses on getting charity to the less well-off via existing capitalist structures. Singer (2015), the moment’s resident philosopher, justifies this by setting the probability of a viable alternative to capitalism surfacing in any reasonable time frame to be zero. Therefore the most good one can do is to ruthlessly accumulate wealth in the metropole and then give it away where it is most needed. Any synergies between the wealth of the first world and the dire economic conditions in the third world simply have to set aside.

Fisher’s term capitalist realism is a sort of pun on socialist realism, a term for idealized, realistic, literal art from 20th century socialist countries. His use of the term realism is (deliberately, I think) ironic, since both capitalist and socialist realism apply firm ideological filters to the real world. The continental philosophy stuff that this ultimately gets down to is a bit above my pay grade, but I think we can generalize the basic idea: X realism is an ideology that posits and enforces the hypothesis that there is no alternative to X.

If one is willing to go along with this, we can easily talk about, for instance, neural realism, which posits that there is simply no alternative to neural networks for machine learning. You can see this for instance in the debate between “deep learning fundamentalists” like LeCun and the rigor police like Rahimi (see Sproat 2022 for an entertaining discussion): LeCun does seem believe there to be no alternative to employing methods we do not understand with the scientific rigor that Rahimi demands, when it seems obvious that these technologies remain a small part of the overall productive economy. An even clearer example is the term foundation model, which has the fairly obvious connotation that they are crucial to the future of AI. Foundation model realism would also necesarily posit that there is no alternative and discard any disconfirming observation.

References

Fisher, M. 2009. Capitalist Realism: Is There No Alternative? Zero Books.
Singer, P. 2015. The Most Good You Can Do. Yale University Press.
Sproat, R. 2022. Boring problems are sometimes the most interesting. Computational Linguistics 48(2): 483-490.