Source: Leonard et al., 2016. Licensed under CC BY 4.0.
In the next and final section, we turn from sounds to semantics and to the representation of meaning in the brain.
Semantic representations
Following a long tradition in linguistics that goes back to Saussure (1989), speech may be thought of as a pairing of sound and meaning. In this chapter, our plan has been to follow the so‐called chain of speech (linking articulation, acoustics, and audition) deep into the brain systems involved in comprehending speech (cochlea, subcortical pathways, primary auditory cortex, and beyond). We have asked how the brain represents speech at each stage and even how speech representations are dynamically linked in a network of brain regions, but we have not talked yet about meaning. This was largely dictated by necessity: much more is known about how the brain represents sound than meaning. Indeed, it can even be difficult to pin down what meaning means. In this section, we will focus on a rather narrow kind of meaning, which linguists refer to as semantics and which should be kept distinct from another kind of meaning called pragmatics. Broadly speaking, semantics refers to literal meaning (e.g. ‘It is cold in here’ as a comment on the temperature of the room), whereas pragmatics refers to meaning in context (‘It is cold in here’ as an indirect request that someone close the window). It may be true that much of what is interesting about human communication is contextual (we are social animals after all), but we shall have our hands full trying to come to grips with even a little bit of how the brain represents the literal meaning of words (lexical semantics). Moreover, the presentation we give here views lexical semantics from a relatively new perspective grounded in the recent neuroscience and machine‐learning literatures, rather than in the linguistic (and philosophical) tradition of formal semantics (e.g. Aloni & Dekker, 2016). This is important because many established results in formal semantics have yet to be explained neurobiologically. For future neurobiologists of meaning, there will be many important discoveries to be made.
Embodied meaning
Despite the difficulty of comprehending the totality of what an example of speech might mean to your brain, there are some relatively easy places to begin. One kind of meaning a word might have, for instance, will relate to the ways in which you experience that word. Take the word ‘strawberry.’ Part of the meaning of this word is the shape and vibrant color of strawberries that you have seen. Another is how it smells and feels in your mouth when you eat it. To a first approximation, we can think of the meaning of the word ‘strawberry’ as the set of associated images, colors, smells, tastes, and other sensations that it can evoke. This is a very useful operational definition of “meaning” because it is to an extent possible to decode brain responses in sensory and motor areas and test whether these areas are indeed activated by words in the ways that we might expect, given the word’s meanings. To take a concrete example of how this approach can be used to distinguish the meaning of two words, consider the words ‘kick’ and ‘lick’: they differ by only one phoneme, /k/ versus /l/. Semantically, however, the words differ substantially, including, for example, by the part of the body that they are associated with: the foot for ‘kick’ and the tongue for ‘lick.’ Since, as we know, the sensorimotor cortex contains a map of the body, the so‐called homunculus (Penfield & Boldrey, 1937), with the foot and tongue areas at opposite ends, the embodied view of meaning would predict that hearing the word ‘kick’ should activate the foot area, which is located near the very top of the head, along the central sulcus on the medial surface of the brain, whereas the word ‘lick’ should active the tongue area, on the lateral surface almost all the way down the central sulcus to the Sylvian fissure. And indeed, these predictions have been verified now over a series of experiments (Pulvermüller, 2005): when you hear a word like ‘kick’ or ‘lick,’ not only does your brain represent the sounds of these words through the progression of acoustic, phonetic, and phonological representations in a hierarchy of auditory‐processing centers that has been discussed in this chapter, but your brain also represents the meaning of these words across a network of associations that certainly engage your sensory and motor cortices, and, as we shall see, many other cortical regions too.
The result of ‘kick’ and ‘lick’ is of fundamental importance because it gives us a leg up, so to speak, on the very difficult problem of trying to understand the representation of semantics in the brain. Of course, not all words are grounded in embodied semantics in the same way. For example, some words are abstract. Consider the word ‘society.’ Questions like “What does a society taste like?” or even “What does a society look like?” are difficult to answer, because societies are not the kinds of things that we taste or see. Societies are not like strawberries. But even abstract words like ‘society’ may contain embodied semantics that become apparent when we consider the ways in which metaphors link abstract concepts with concretely experienced objects (Lakoff & Johnson, 1980). One feature of societies, we might assert, is that they have insides and outsides. In this respect, they are like a great many objects that we experience directly: cups, bowls and rooms. Therefore, it may be hypothesized that even abstract words such as ‘society’ could have predictable effects on the sensorimotor system. Brain areas such as the insula that respond to the physical disgust of fetid smells also respond to the social disgust of seeing an appalled look on someone else’s face (Wicker et al., 2003). There are limits, however, to the embodied view of meaning. Function words such as conjunctions and prepositions are more difficult to associate with concrete experiences. As we have described it, the approach is also limited to finding meaning in the sensorimotor systems, which is unsatisfying as it ignores large swathes of the brain. In the next subsection, we turn to a more ambitious, if abstract, way of mapping the meaning of words that is not limited to finding meaning in the sensorimotor systems.
Vector representations and encoding models
One difficulty in studying meaning is that “meaning” can be challenging to define. If you ask what the word ‘strawberry’ means, we might point at a strawberry. If we know the activity in your visual system that is triggered by looking at a strawberry, then we can point to similar activity patterns in your visual system when you think of the word ‘strawberry’ as another kind of meaning. You might imagine that it is harder to point to just any part of the brain and ask of its current state, “Is this a representation of ‘strawberry’?” But it is not impossible. In this subsection, we will, in as informal a way as possible, introduce the ideas of vector representations of words, and encoding models for identifying the neural representations of vectors.
Generally speaking, an encoding model aims to predict how the brain will respond to a stimulus. Encoding models contrast with decoding models, which aim to do the opposite: guess which stimulus caused the brain response. The spectrogram reconstruction method (mentioned in a previous section) is an example of a decoding model (Mesgarani et al., 2008). An encoding model of sound would therefore try to predict the neural response to an audio recording. In a landmark study of semantic encoding, Mitchell et al. (2008) were able to predict fMRI responses to the meanings of concrete nouns, like ‘celery’ and ‘airplane.’ Unlike studies of embodied meaning, Mitchell et al. (2008) were able to predict neural responses that were not limited to the sensorimotor systems. For instance, they predicted accurate word‐specific neural responses across bilateral occipital and parietal lobes, the fusiform and middle frontal gyri, and sensory cortex; the left inferior frontal gyrus; the medial frontal gyrus and the anterior cingulate (see Figure