An Essay on Levels of Abstractions
Based on Language in Thought and Action
by
S.I. Hayakawa
Prepared for Dr. Greg Allar
Texas Christian University
by
Steve Stockdale
English 5323
November 5, 1979
I have always been interested in language. Language, to me, is one of the essential needs of man, because it allows him to communicate with his fellow man. This communication may take many forms. It may be informative, directive, persuasive, questioning, or entertaining. Language serves a purpose by enabling man to communicate. This is the extent of what I have always thought about language.
But after reading S. I. Hayakawa's Language in Thought and Action, I now realize that my views about the use of language were narrow and short-sided. My emphasis has always been on the actual content of the communication, the message which is encoded by the transmitter and then decoded by the receiver. I have thought that if you improve the message, you will improve the communication, and I neglected the roles that the transmitter and receiver play in the communicative process. Mr. Hayakawa has corrected my thinking, as well as enlightening me as to much a much broader view of the uses, and misuses, of language.
One facet of language which I had not before considered is that it is language which enables man to either cooperate, through agreement, or argue through disagreement. Our existence as a society is based on an innumerable set of implied or stated agreements, such as, "I won't hit you if you won't hit me," and "You stay out of my house and I'll stay out of yours." Without these agreements, we would not be free to prosper and progress, and would become merely another species of animals fighting to survive. Hayakawa's theme in writing the book is his contention:
"that widespread intraspecific co-operation through the use of language is the fundamental mechanism of human survival, and that, when the use of language results, as it so often does, in the creation or aggravation of disagreements and conflicts, there is something wrong with the speaker, the listener, or both." (p. 307)
There are two reasons why I believe this contention and the conclusions he reaches. The first is that what he says makes sense. We are all aware of stumbling blocks associated with language and the problems of social conflicts. We all must face prejudices, discrimination, excessive generalization, misinterpreted meanings, and simple ignorance. We often recognize these faults in others, but seldom do we hold ourselves up to the same scrutiny. Hayakawa outlines a framework for an orientation which, if carefully administered, will help us to use the language effectively and cooperatively, and will assist us in recognizing that language which discourages cooperation.
The second reason that I feel his ideas are valid is that, despite the fact that he originally wrote the book forty years ago, the material is still very much applicable to the rapidly-changing life we now experience. In summarizing his conclusions, Hayakawa offers ten rules for ensuring a proper orientation when evaluating language use. He suggests memorizing them, much like multiplication tables, for daily use. Because of the many specially-defined terms and extensive background he develops in support of his rules, it is impractical for me to list and discuss all ten rules in a short paper. I will attempt to discuss what I consider to be one of the most interesting concepts he presents -- the levels of abstractions.
The process of abstracting is integral to the ability of language to adequately function. Abstracting may be considered as a kind of classification procedure. Al lives in a house, Mike lives in an apartment, and Joe lives in a condominium, yet at five o'clock every afternoon, each says he is going "home." This is an example of abstracting. It is the selection, rejection, and regrouping of certain characteristics of word meanings to form a new, more encompassing meaning. In order to understand this abstracting process, Hayakawa places the process upon an abstraction ladder.
At the bottom of the abstraction ladder is an object. As an example, we will use a cow named "Bessie." The cow itself exists before we give it a name or assign a word to classify it. It is composed of muscle, bones, skin, and thousands of constantly changing operations inside. It contains a circulatory system, a respiratory system, a digestive tract. As our first step up the ladder, we may disregard or ignore all the biological processes which comprise the object, but we retain its physical properties -- its color, size, shape, etc. -- and we call it "Bessie."
As we sit in the pasture and watch Bessie do whatever it is she does in the pasture, we see another form approaching. It is walking on four legs, like Bessie. It has the same general shape as Bessie, and makes a similar mooing sound. Although it is not the exact same size or color as Bessie, we can see that there are a great many common characteristics. We decide that both Bessie and the newcomer, as well as any creature that possesses these same common characteristics, will be called "cows.'
We may continue up the ladder as we observe other animals on the farm. We recognize horses, and a goat, and some chickens. These objects all have some similar attributes as the cows. They are all animals, and they perform some function around the farm, although the horses do not give milk and the cows do not lay eggs. We ignore the difference among the animals, instead concentrating on their similarities, and refer to the entire collection of animals as "livestock." When we say "livestock," we are still saying something about Bessie, but we are referring only to those characteristics of Bessie which are common to the other animals on the farm.
If I have adequately explained this transformation from the physical object to "livestock," it should be clear how we can continue up the ladder. If the owner of the farm decided to group his livestock, barn, and tractors together, he could call them his "farm assets." By combining his farm assets with his house, cars, and savings, he could determine his "wealth." The farmer's wealth now includes Bessie, but with each step up the ladder, certain characteristics have been deleted (those which do not contribute to the farmer's wealth). It is the process of abstraction which enables us to start with the physical object ("Bessie") and conclude with the abstract concept ("wealth").
It is important to remember that, for any object, there are a multitude of ladders which will abstract in many different directions. For example, we could easily have abstracted "cow" into "food" had we chosen to. A veterinarian could have offered a more detailed grouping by naming Bessie as a specific breed or species of bovine. When we abstract, then, we abstract according to the demands of the context.
The ladder of abstraction plays an important role in our ability to define unfamiliar words. Visualizing the bottom rung of the ladder as "Bessie" and the top as "wealth," it is much easier to define "Bessie" than it is "wealth." We can simply point to Bessie to make our meaning known, but in order to explain the meaning of "wealth" we must use other words. This is the difference between extensional meaning (the physical Bessie) and in tensional meaning (the abstract wealth). If we must use words when defining, it is imperative that we use those words found below the word in question on the ladder of abstraction. The definition must point toward the extensional for the meaning to be understandable. For example, in defining the word "livestock," we would want to say something about cows and horses and chickens rather than discussing assets or wealth. The most effective, meaningful definition is one in which specific examples are given which point directly to the meaning of the word.
A recurring pitfall which should be recognized and avoided is the confusing levels of abstraction. This is a fairly typical ploy of politicians. Say the mayor of Podunk decides that the new highway needs to be built through Farmer Jone's land. When farmer Jones wants to know why the highway is to be built across his land and not the mayor's, the mayor may reply that "the future of this town depends upon our access to rapid transportation links with the rest of the state." Besides blowing a lot of hot air, the mayor is intentionally changing levels of abstracting in order to cloud the issue. In this instance, he raised the level. If he had pulled from his pocket the county's cost analysis of alternatives, including right-of-way grants, dislocation fees, purchase prices, taxes, and family dislocation, then he would have lowered the abstraction level. He could have stated, "This route will affect the least number of people and will cost the least money," and remained on approximately the same level. Compared to the other two responses, the last would probably have won him more votes.
This is not to say that high level abstractions do not serve a useful purpose. It should be understood that abstracting, or generalizing, is an invaluable tool. Instead of having to say, "the T.C.U. quarterback is a good ball player, as the fullback, and the halfback, and the center, etc.," we can abstract that "the T.C.U. football team is good." It is infinitely more convenient to be able to state in a single thought what might take paragraphs of lower level abstraction occurred when Jesus stated the Golden Rule. He could have begun, "If you don't want to be hit, don't hit your neighbor. If you don't want your neighbor to mess around with your wife, don't mess around with his." If He had, he might still be giving us examples. Instead, millions of lives are directed by the simple command to "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."
An understanding of abstractions is necessary when we realize that all that we know is abstractions. When I say that I know my car, my knowledge is an abstraction of the totality of the car. I cannot witness or experience (or, for that matter, explain) the molecular interactions which result in the internal combustion which powers pistons, etc. Because I do not know everything about the car, I must abstract those characteristics of the car which provide a meaning for me. By the same token, there is nothing about which we know everything; thus, our requirement to abstract.
The key to effective use of abstracts is not whether the abstractions are high level or low level, but whether the abstraction can be referred to a lower level. In other words, suppose I were to say that T.C.U. represents one of the finest athletic institutions in the United States. For me to convince someone else that this is true, or to insure that this statement contains meaning, I must also know something about "athletics" (football, basketball, baseball, track, etc.) as well as "other institutions" (colleges, universities, prisons, hospitals) and the "United States" (Texas, Oklahoma, New England, the Northwest). What we should strive for, then, is to learn new lower level abstractions and abstract them to become part of our existing higher levels, or to create new higher levels.
I do not presume that I have mastered all of S.I. Hayakawa's rules, or that I have become the resident expert on abstractions. Any specific knowledge which I might have retained is a fringe benefit. The greatest result from reading this book is that my awareness of the purposes, uses, and limitations of language has been considerably broadened. I am tremendously impressed with the ability of Mr. Hayakawa to express himself while concerning himself with many higher abstractions. Just in preparing this short paper, I have realized how difficult it is to write about words. But I feel that this study is important. As our lives become more and more complicated due to rapidly changing technology, the decay of longstanding institutions, and increasing individual freedoms, our willingness and ability to cooperate must also increase. An understanding of language, as outlined by Mr. Hayakawa, is essential for continued cooperation.
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