In this post, Jodie summarises the key points in her talk.
I want to make the case that it is possible for people who don’t themselves experience mental disorder to understand the experiences of those who do, even when these individuals struggle to communicate their experiences. This recognition is important as it may help us overcome some epistemic injustices as a result of assuming some experiences are un-understandable and therefore not worth trying to understand.
To make my case, I argue that we should take a phenomenological approach to language, drawing on French philosopher Maurice Merleau-Ponty for this purpose. On the phenomenological view, language is much more than the words on the page or the sounds that come out of our mouths; for Merleau-Ponty, language is a gesture at the world, which our whole body is involved in. When we speak, we are 'geared' towards the world in a particular way.
For example, when I talk about my cat Fluffy sitting on the mat, I’m gesturing toward Fluffy with my words, in the same way that I might point at Fluffy with my finger. My statement also indicates Fluffy’s ‘presence’; my statement turns us towards Fluffy in our shared world. At my mention, you might look for her or anticipate her to appear, for example, even if she’s actually just hopped out the cat flap.
For example, when I talk about my cat Fluffy sitting on the mat, I’m gesturing toward Fluffy with my words, in the same way that I might point at Fluffy with my finger. My statement also indicates Fluffy’s ‘presence’; my statement turns us towards Fluffy in our shared world. At my mention, you might look for her or anticipate her to appear, for example, even if she’s actually just hopped out the cat flap.
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| A cat |
The horizon of ideas
My language also implies certain things about me, the world I live in and the nature of Fluffy. For example, I live in a world where cats are domesticated. Her name also tells you that she’s a cat with a significant coat (hence her name) who is well known to me. Language, in the way that it points to aspects of the world, also implies further ideas beyond what we merely see; this is what Hayden Kee (2020) refers to as the ‘horizon’ of ideas.
Importantly, we are aware of other ideas implied by our language in virtue of being part of a shared world. As members of a linguistic community, we all contribute to a stock of shared meanings by both introducing new meanings, changing the old meanings, or reinforcing the old meanings. Which kinds of contribution we make depends on the context (my old saying maybe new to your ears, and thus I may contribute something new – in one way - to our personal pool of shared meanings). Nevertheless, we are, I claim, inherently embedded in a linguistic community and thus our language is (almost) inescapable from this pool of shared meanings.
Individuals with ineffable disorder experiences are part of the linguistic community too; they may lack words for their experiences because there simply is no way to describe them in our community. But that doesn’t make their experiences totally incommunicable, I argue. We may just have to understand communication as being broader than words (someone may indicate with their body how they feel, and it is up to us to take up this meaning and try to integrate in into our horizon of ideas).
We must also acknowledge that describing an experience as ineffable is still, itself, communicating some of the experience. We may then need to tease apart the implications of that for other areas of the individual’s life (how they feel they live with an experience that can’t describe, e.g., as a mother, a friend or a working professional) to work around the areas that are more difficult to express.
Understanding individuals with mental disorder to be a part of our linguistic community, of which we are all inherently embedded, is key, I think, to overcoming some of the communicative issues that can arise when someone lacks words for a complex experience, and to gaining valuable insight into what it is like for them to live with said experiences.
Understanding individuals with mental disorder to be a part of our linguistic community, of which we are all inherently embedded, is key, I think, to overcoming some of the communicative issues that can arise when someone lacks words for a complex experience, and to gaining valuable insight into what it is like for them to live with said experiences.
