bakhtin and vygotsky: internalization as a boundary phenomenon

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380 J. Shotter

WHAT IT MEANS TO SAY THAT 'INNER' LIFE IS A 'BOUNDARY' PHENOMENON

There is no doubt that, currently, nothing seems more natural to us as individual adults than that our thoughts go on inside our heads, and that we first think our thoughts and then express the result in actions or words. Indeed, we take it that our thinking goes on within the neurological networks in the cortex of our brains. Where else could it be located if not there? Well, Wittgenstein voiced his disquiet with this claim in many ways. Here is, perhaps, one of his most dramatic expressions of it:

No supposition seems to me more natural than that there is no process in the brain correlated with ... thinking ... I mean this: if I talk or write there is, I assume, a system of impulses going out from my brain and correlated with my spoken or written thoughts. But why should the system continue further in the direction of the centre? Why should this order not proceed, so to speak, out of chaos? (Wittgenstein, 1981, p. 608)

But if the relation between thought and words is a living process and not an automatic one-in the sense that there are no preformed, orderly, and constant relations between thoughts and words, but only ones which are 'developed' or 'formed' as we attempt to express them to others in some way-where should we 'locate' our mental activities if not at the centre of ourselves? Where should our self-awareness be placed? Bakhtin (1984) answers this question as follows:

I am conscious of myself and become myself only while revealing myself for another, through another, and with the help of another* ... The very being of man (both internal and external) is a profound rommunimtion. To bP means to communimte . .. To be means to be for the other; and through him, for oneself. Man has no internal sovereign territory; he is all and always on the boundary. (p. 287)

In other words, in line with Wittgenstein's view, rather than us possessing already systematic and orderly thoughts at the center of our being, which, in our utterances, we merely codifY in words, what we call 'our thoughts' are only given form as we talk or write. Beginning as vague (chaotic), diffusely distributed, but not wholly unspecified 'feelings' or 'tendencies't which are open to, or permit, a degree of further specification, their ordering must be negotiated in a step-by-step process in ways which the others around us find intelligible and legitimate. If we do not negotiate our ordering of our utterances with them, if we do not address them in a

*It is interesting to compare this with Vygot,ky's ( 1966) formulation: 'Thus, we may say that we brromr oursdvrs through others and that this rule applies not only to the personality as a whole, but also to the history of every individual function ... The personality becomes for itself what it is in itself through what it is for others" (pp. 43-44).

tWilliam James (I H90) talks of the movement of our thought as workin~~; in terms of ")rrling< of tendency, often so vague that we are unable to name them at all" (p. 254). See also what he says about "large tracts of human speech [being] nothing but signs of dirertion in thought, of which we have an acutely discriminative sense, though no definite sensorial image plays any part in it whatsoever" (pp. 252-253). In no sense should the word 'feeling' here be equated with anythin~~; emotional. It is to do with how we 'let> I' a state of affairs outside ourselves, not our experience of any 'inner' states.

Bakhtin and Vygotsky: Internalization 381

way which is responsive to their concerns, there is no point for them in what we say and we cannot hope to have them respond to it in any way (see Shotter, 1993). At least, this is Bakhtin's claim in his theory of the utterance, the central, 'dialogical' concept in his approach, to which I shall now turn.

UTTERANCES NOT SENTENCES

Bakhtin contrasts his views with those of de Saussure (1974/1960). Because he is concerned with how different embodied beings interact and not just with the relations between words and concepts, Bakhtin takes actual spoken utterances rather than grammatically well-formed sentences as his basic linguistic unit. The utterance is a real responsive-interactive unit for at least two maJor reasons: ( 1) It marks out the boundaries (or the gaps) in the speech flow between different speakers: "The first and foremost criterion for the finalization of an utterance is the possibility of responding to it or, more precisely and broadly, of assuming a responsive attitude to it (for example, executing an order)" (Bakhtin, 1986, p. 76). But also (2) because in its performance an utterance must take into account the (already linguistically shaped) context into which it must be directed. Thus any actual utterance is a link in the chain of speech communication within a particular sphere, a particular social group, possible or actual. And where the boundaries of utterances are determined by a change of speech subjects. Thus:

Utterances are not indifferent to one another, and are not self-sufficient; they are aware of and mutually reflect one another ... Every utterance must be regarded as primarily a response to preceding utterances of the given sphere (we understand the word 'response' here in the broadest sense). Each utterance refutes, affirms, supplements, and relies upon the others, presupposes them to be known, and somehow takes them into account ... Therefore, each kind of utterance is filled with various kinds of responsive reactions to other utterances of the given sphere of speech communication. (Bakhtin, 1986, p. 91)

And this, along with Vygotsky (see Shotter, 1993) and Bakhtin, is what I shall argue too: that our 'inner' lives are structured by us living 'into' and 'through,' so to speak, the opportunities or enablements offered us by the 'others' both around us, and the 'audiences' we have internalized within ourselves from operating within different "spheres of communication," or "speech genres."

Indeed, as we speak, as we formulate our utterances, we must take account of their 'voices,'* that is, the gap between what we feel we want to say, and can say (what is in our control), and how we feel they (the 'others') will respond to it (what is not in our control). It is these different gaps, the 'distances' between the 'positions' of all those who might respond to what we say, and the struggles

*The concept of 'voice' lies at the heart of Bakhtin's nonreferential-that is, resf)()nsiv,._theorv of language. It plays the same part in his philosophical anthropology of embodied thought as the concept of 'mind' plays in more disembodied Enlightenment philosophies. As Emerson ( 1984) puts it: "Bakhtin visualizes voices, he senses their proximity and interaction as bodies. A voice, Bakhtin everywhere tells us, is not just words or ideas strung together: it is a 'semantic position,' a point of view on the world, it is one personality orienting itself among other personalities within a limited field. How a voice sounds is a function of where it is and what it can 'see'," and, one might add, how the person feels.

382 J Shotter to which they give rise, which constitute the 'semantic landscape,' so to speak, into which our attempted formulations must be directed. And these are the considerations to which, even when 'thinking' all alone, we must address ourselves, if, that is, we want what we write to be acceptable and to have point. Thus, as Bakhtin continually reminds us, our mental life is neither wholly under our own control, nor filled with our own materials. vVe live in a way that is responsive both to our own position as well as to the positions of those who are 'other than' ourselves, in the semiotically created 'world' in which we arc 'placed.'

Bakhtin's claim above, then, that we have no internal sovereign territory of our own, arises out of his responsive, nonreferential approach to language.* For him, people's linguistic task is not in any way like that depicted in de Saussure's (1974/1960, pp. 11-12) classic, paradigmatic account of the communicative situation, in which an immaterial idea or concept in the 'mind' of one person (a speaker or writer) is sent into the mind of another, essentially similar person (but now in the role of a listener or reader), by the use of material signs such as vibrations in the air or ink-marks on paper (see Reddy, 1979). For him, the process is much more like Vygotsky's process of 'instruction,' in which an embodied person of one kind 'makes' something known to another of a (usually very) different kind (e.g., an adult to a child). Thus everything of importance goes on in the gaps or the zones of uncertainty, so to speak, between utterances, at the boundaries between the different, unique positions in existence everyone and everything has and is answerable for (see Chap. 3 in Clark & Holquist, 1984). Nothing in Bakhtin's world is tightly coupled, a degree of loosejointedness prevails everywhere.

SPEECH GENRES, TEXTS, AND CONTEXTS

The existence of gaps, the lack of necessary, mechanistic connections does not, however, mean that everything is totally unconnected either. As each utterance is responded to, what has already said remains 'on hand,' so to speak, as a 'text' to form a context (of enabling-constraints) as to what may next be said.t Elsewhere (Shotter, 1984), I have discussed this phenomenon in terms of the concept of 'joint action": In many of our ordinary, everyday life activities, where we must interlace our actions in with those of others and their actions determine our conduct just as much as anything within ourselves, the final outcomes of such exchanges cannot strictly he traced back to the intentions of any of the individuals concerned. Hence, they cannot he accounted as planned or intended; they must he accounted as just happening events, as ifa part of the 'natural,' external world. However, although unintended (by any individuals) and experienced as belonging to their 'surroundings,' the products ofjoint action still have intentionali('! in the sense of 'pointing to,' implying, or

*Although it may Sl't'lll undeniable that words art' used rderentially, a Bakhtinian would say tht'v do so only from within a hJrm of social life alrmdy constitutrd by the speech genres within which such words are used-sec bdow for an account of speech genres.

tSee Giddens's ( 19HO) account of his theory of structuration f(>r a discussion of the luwdwow/nlgnl ronditions of (social) action. and its unintrndnl ron\l'qut->ntn.


indicating something beyond themselves. They posit a realm of other, next possible actions, and can thus function as a context (a world) 'into' which further action must be directed if it is to 'belong' and to 'fit.'

Within a conversation, then, it is into this temporally (and spatially) developed and developing intralinguistically created context that everyone involved must direct their expressions when it is their turn to speak or act-if, that is, their actions are to be judged as appropriate by those involved. It is the character of this 'time-space' network ofintralinguistic references,* a network that carries in it the traces of one's socio-cultural history, that is the key to the further understanding of the nature of our mental processes. This, as we shall see, is where Bakhtin's concept of speech genres becomes relevant.

What is constituted in the use of a particular speech genre is, among many other aspects of a ongoing social 'world,' a particular set of interdependently related but continually changing speech 'positions.' On the one hand, these are positions for which we are answerable,t and on the other, which permit us as speakers certain forms of addressivity, that is, to aim our speech at the positions of others. Hence, responsivity equals answerability plus addressivity. It is in their permitting of some speech forms but disallowing others, that the social institutions constituted by particular speech genres are maintained, repaired, and transformed. Any utterances occurring within a given sphere of communication, in taking into account the (already linguistically shaped)context into which they must be directed, become filled with responsive reactions to what has already occurred within that sphere. Where, by the different spheres in which we communicate, Bakhtin means nothing more than, say, our family, our work, in banks and post offices, in official documents, our intimate relations, and so on. All the spheres that, even before we come on the scene, are maintained in existence by an ongoing communicative process of a particular kind-that is what gives them their particular character as the spheres they are.

For example, in choosing to write of joint action' above (instead of, perhaps, joint behavior') the choice of term is influenced by a knowledge of the whole history of the usage of these words in psychology, of the groups who have used them in the past, of the battles they have fought (and are still fighting) over them, and of the groups who use them now. 'Positioning' oneself in relation to these groups, however, is not just a matter of using single words, one must (try to) use a whole appropriate speech genre, if one wishes the significance of what one says or writes to 'move' them, to be seen by them as having point.

In the never-ending flow of communication in which different particular forms of life are sustained, every utterance, then, is a rejoinder in some way to

*Bakhtin (1981. pp. 84-258) gives the name Chronotopes (literally 'time-spaces') to the different structuring structures which are developed within different forms ofliterature and discourse at different points in history.

tAs a sentence is merely a formal unity, and is concerned neither with answerability nor addressivitv in its formulations, "it has neither direct contact with reality (with an extraverbal situation) nor a direct relation to others' utterances" (Bakhtin, 1986, p. 74). See Clark and Holquist (1984, Chap. 3) on 'the architectonics of answerability.'

J. Shotter previous utterances. But utterances, besides satisfYing criteria to do with the issues of answerability and addressivity mentioned above, must also be related to each other as responses: as answers to questions; as agreements (or objections) to assertions; as acceptances (or rejections) to invitations; execution to order, and so on.* Listening too must be responsive, in that listeners must be preparing themselves to respond to what they are hearing. Indeed, the speaker does not expect passive understanding that, so to speak, only duplicates his or her own idea in someone else's mind (as in de Saussure's model of linguistic communication mentioned above). Rather, the speaker talks with an expectation of the listener preparing a response, agreement, sympathy, objection, execution, and so forth (with various speech genres presupposing various integral orientations and speech plans on the part of speakers or writers).

In other words, the utterance is a real social psychological unit in that it marks out the boundaries (or the gaps) in the speech flow between different 'voices,' between different 'semantic positions,' whether between people or within them. This is not the case with sentences: "the boundaries of the sentence as a unit of language are never determined by a change of speaking subjects," says Bakhtin (1986, p. 72). The trouble with the sentence is that "it has no capacity to determine directly the responsive position of the other speaker; that is, it cannot evoke a response. The sentence as a language unit is only grammatical, not ethical in nature" (Bakhtin, 1986, p. 74).

ACHIEVING LINGUISTIC AUTONOMY

As we become more and more adept, then, at the use of various speech genres, at participating in already constructed networks of intmlinguistic references to function as a context into which to direct our own further utterances-as well as adept at constructing our own-then we become increasingly capable of acting independently of our immediate context. In such a development, there is a transformation from being 'answerable' for our own immediate context, to being answerable for our 'position' in an intralinguistically constructed context, a reliance upon a network oflinks within what has already been, m with what might be said. In essence, it is a decrease of reference to what 'is' with a consequent increase of reference to what 'might be'-an increase of reference to an hermeneutically constructed imaginary world (see the account in Shutter, 1993, of the 'from-to' imaginary nature of hermeneutical constructions). A a result, what is said requires less and less grounding in an extralinguistic context-for it can find its 'roots' almost wholly within the new, linguistically constructed context. Thus one can tell people about (reptesent to them or give them an account of) situations not actually at the moment present.

Such a consequence requires, however, especially in the light of the expected responsiveness of listeners, the development of methods for warranting in the

*Indt't'd. cornTrsational analysts have made use of this phenomenon: tlw sequential dependcncv of "adjact'ncv pairs.


course of one's talk (i.e., giving good reasons for) one's claims about what 'might be' as what being what 'is'-one must learn to say, for instance, when making a claim about a state of affairs, that others saw it that way too, that it was based on direct observation, in the 'nature' of things, independent of one's wish, and so on. But primarily, one must try to avoid the need for such warranting by learning to speak with routine intelligibility, i.e., within the accepted idiom or genre of the social order within which one is acting (Garfinkel, 1967). By the use of such methods and procedures, adults can construct their statements as avowals, as factual statements that others will take seriously, without question, and adults can learn to speak with a large degree of independence from their immediate context.*

This is not to say, however, that when one talks in this way, one's speech has become wholly one's own. For it is in the very nature of speech genres that they preexist the individual; furthermore, not all are equally conducive to reflecting the individuality of the speaker. As Bakhtin points out, there are no 'neutral' words and forms; they have all at one time or another belonged to, and been used by others, and carry with them the traces of those uses:

A word (or in general any sign) is interindividual. Everything that is said, expressed, is located outside the 'soul' of the speaker and does not belong only to him [or her]. The word cannot be assigned to a single speaker. The author (speaker) has his own inalienable right to the word, but the listener has his rights, and those whose voices are heard in the word before the author comes upon it also have their rights (after all, there are no words that belong to no one). (Bakhtin, 1986, pp. 121-122)

Indeed, as he adds later, a word only becomes 'one's own' when one puts it to one's own use, to express one's own position, then:

the speaker populates it with his own intentions, his own accent, when he appropriates the word, adapting it to his own semantic and expressive intention. Prior to this moment of appropriation, the word does not exist in a neutral and impersonal language (it is not, after all, out of a dictionary that the speaker gets his words!), but rather it exists in other people's mouths, in other people's contexts, serving other people's intentions: it is from there that one must take the word, and make it one's own. (pp. 293-294)

And if, as Vygotsky (1966) says, "the relations between the higher mental functions were at one time real relations among people" (p. 41), then at that moment of appropriation, what precisely these relations were, or still are, is important. In particular, we can ask, what were or are the ethical proprieties that must be negotiatedt moment by moment in sustaining them; and how it is possible for words to have, so to speak, ethical currency?

*Wertch (19R5a, 1985b) gives a quite different account of how adults' forms of thought and talk can become decontextualized, based upon taking grammatically correct sentences, formed according to syntactic rules, as the basic units in terms of which semiotic mediation works. Suffice it to say here that, clearly, I disagree with this approach; syntactic rules are insufficient to organize speech thematically.

tWhich, in their observance or nonobservance, reproduce (or not) the relations of power in the form of life in question.

~86 J Shutter THE ETHICS OF SPEAKING AND THINKING

In their biography of Bakhtin, Clark and Holquist (1984) discuss a number of early, incomplete texts of Bakhtin's-written between 1918 and 1924-to which they assign the title The Architectonics of Answerability. As they see it, in these early texts, Bakhtin outlined a concern with the ethics of everyday life activities that he never ceased to pursue throughout his whole career: His concern was not with the end product of an action, with what it results in, but with the "ethical deed in its making," they say (p. 63), with how in the process of authoring, that is, in crafting the complex, time-space relations between self and others, the self is also crafted. Where, what it is that makes a person as a 'me' unique, is the unique place or position the person occupies, and the degree to which, as already mentioned above, the person is answerable for that position to the others around him or her. It is this authoring, as Bakhtin sees it, that is the difference between humans and other forms of life; but it is an authoring one cannot possibly do on one's own. This is the meaning, they say, ofBakhtin's dictum that "the self is an act of grace, a gift of the other" (p. 68).

But, it must be added that (as we have seen above), if we owe our being to how we are addressed (Shatter, 1989), how I address the others around me in my 'authoring' of myself also raises ethical questions. For it is a part of the ethics of authoring that I must not, in making my own being, violate the being of others, for I owe my being to them. How, if the others around me are unique beings whose nature cannot be predicted, can this be managed?

It can only be managed at the point of action, so to speak, during the actual execution of the communicative act, the fashioning of an utterance. Hence, the centrality of the theory of the utterance in Bakhtin's work. As commentators remark (e.g., Todorov, 1984), Bakhtin formulated his theory of the utterance twice, both in the texts of the late 1920s signed almost exclusively by Volosinov (here only the 1973 writings are referred to), and in some writing from the late 1950s (mainly those in Bakhtin, 1986)-though the differences between them are not major. Central to them both, as we have already seen above, is the rejection of formal, linguistic analyses in terms of sentences, the rejection of the idea that there must be a stage of passive, formal, nonresponsive understanding in the life of utterances (in terms of their sentence-syntax) brfort' they are perceived as having a significance in a context. What matters for actual speakers, Bakhtin feels, is not that normatively identical forms exist in the 'tool-box' of language-just as normatively identical tools exist in the actual tool-boxes of carpenters, say-but that in different particular contexts (like the carpenter's tools), such forms can be put to use in novel and creative ways. Thus what a speaker values about a word, is not so much its form, which remains identical in all instances of its usage, but what in a given context it can be used for.

vVe can express it this way: what is important for thr sjJmkrr about thr linguistic form is not that it is a stablr and always srlfequivalent signal, but that it is an always rhangrablr and adaptablr sign. (Volosinov, 1986/ 197~, p. 68)


But if this is the case, how is a listener to understand what the speaker means? Doesn't the listener first have to recognize the form used in order to understand its meaning?

No, not at all, as we saw previously (Shatter, 1993), in Vygotsky's discussion of children's use of language before learning to write. The actual learning of grammatical forms need play no part in the child learning to speak and to understand its mother tongue. For although in learning to write the child must, says Vygotsky, "disengage himselffrom the sensory aspect of speech and replace words by images of words" ( 1988, p. 181), in talking it is merely the 'sensory' aspect of words which is important.* This is Vygotsky's (1986) point in taking word meaning as the 'unit' of analysis: it is still a dynamic unity of intellectual and affective factors. Where clearly, from a practical-moral point of view, what is involved in 'making sense' of words used in particular concrete communicative contexts, amounts, says Volosinov (1986/1973), "to understanding [a word's] novelty and not to recognizing its identity" (p. 68), that is, to 'sensing' its affective novelty, the way in which we (or others) are moved by it, the way its utterance can make a difference in our lives.

CONTACT WITH REALI'IY

Indeed, if we go along with Bakhtin and regard every utterance as primarily a response to preceding utterances, then the task listeners face (in understanding) is that of formulating what their response to a speaker's utterance should be: they must decide whether they agree with it or want to reject it; whether they must comply with it; act upon it; or are insulted by it; and so on. In short, a listener's two-part task is: (1) To grasp how the speaker's ('tool'-like) use of words has functioned, so to speak, to have 'moved' or 'repositioned' him or her in the changing, intralinguistically specified situation between them; in order next (2) to 'answer' for their new position within it. In this view then, the social psychological 'movement' of dialogic speech consists in a sequence of boundary crossings. Where each utterance is responsive to the next, as each speaker (voice) tries to 'develop' (Vygotsky) suitable expressions for 'moving' between their sense of what they want to say in their utterance, and what the words of the others will permit or afford him or her to say.

But how is this possible? How can an expression be 'developed' word by word in a more or less routine way, and checked in the course of its 'construction' for its appropriateness? Well, as already argued, neutral dictionary definitions of the words of a language ensure their common features and guarantee that all speakers of a given language will understand one another, but the use ofwords in live speech communication is always individual and contextual in nature. Therefore, says Bakhtin,

*The author was brought up against this fact dramatically when, in struggling to learn Dutch from a textbook, he asked the already fluently bilingual 31 ; 2 year old daughter of an English colleague, what certain three and four word sentences in the textbook meant, was told: "I can't read yet'" "Then how can she know what she's saying?," I thought to myself.

388 J. Shutter one can say that any word exists for the speaker in th1ee aspects: as a neutral word of a language, belonging to nobody; as an other's word, which belongs to another person and is filled with echoes of the other's uttei


sustaining one or another social group, in which all the utterances within the genre must in some way be responsive to each other.

This is where Bakhtin's thought becomes a crucial supplement to Vygotsky's. Vygotsky merely hints at the sensory or affective function of words, for Bakhtin it is central. For him, although we cannot actually 'see' into the thoughts of others, from how their words 'move' us, we can get a sense of them, 'feel' their shape, so to speak. We can come to an 'internalized' grasp of the gaps to be crossed, between what is within our own agency to affect, and what from our 'position' within this or that intralinguistic reality, is outside our control. In such circumstances, we can 'experiment' in an inner dialogue (or argument) within ourselves as to what it is that we feel it is best for us in those circumstance to do.

Thought of this kind cannot take place in a logical 'mind' at a 'centre' of our being. Indeed, it makes no sense to talk of such a place (and not all languages, even European ones, possess a word for such a place or entity). Such thinking must consist in us exploring, and negotiating a path among (struggling with), all the possible formulations available to use as we range over the different momentary positions allowed us, within whatever speech genre (form of social life) we currently happen to be involved. This is an account of the movement of mind close to that given by William .James ( 1890) (see footnote on p. 380). What 'structure' it has for us is a responsive, temporal one, consisting in the experience of crossing the boundaries (the gaps) between one mode of embodied consciousness (within oneself) and another, between one's sense of one's own being and one's sense of another's. Each mode encompasses a whole, possible version of us as a being of this or that kind. Thus what we are self conscious of is not the 'shape' of a single thought, but of a 'struggle':

In everything a person uses to express himself on the outside (and consequently for anolhPr)-from the body to the word-an intense interaction takes place between I and oth!'T. their struggle (honest struggle or mutual deception), balance, harmony (as an ideal), naive ignorance of one another, deliberate ignoring of one another, challenge, absence of recognition ... and so forth.* We repeat, this struggle takes place in everything a person uses to express (reveal) himself on the outside (for others). (Bakhtin, 1984, p. 295)

This then is the conclusion that we arrive at in reformulating our understanding of our 'inner' lives in terms of semiotic processes, working in terms of ethically responsive, socio-culturally developed signs: That for Vygotsky, such signs play the role of "psychological instruments" and make an 'inner' life possible; for Bakhtin, however, the socio-ethical nature of these signs makes it impossible for me to know whose side T am on. The 'movement' of my 'inner' life is motivated and structured through and through by my continual crossing of boundaries; by what happens in those zones of uncertainty where T (speaking in one of my 'voices' from one 'position' in a discourse) am in communication with, and must respond to another 'self' in another position.

*The syntax is a bit strange as Bakhtin wrote these comments in note form.

390 J. Shotter All of this, however, is to introduce into modern psychology issues of quite a revolutionary kind, ones that would completely undermine the currently popular conceptualizations of cognitive psychology-as concerned as it is to model all our supposedly 'inner mental processes' upon what might be called 'unquestioned routine processes of information communication.' If we were to take it seriously, we would have to develop a wholly different approach to the study of cognition. One must more concerned with the social and historical conditions within a social group that make various routines possible and give them their warrant.

REFERENCES

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Bakhtin, M. M. (1984). Problems of Dostoevsky's jmetirs, C. Emerson (Ed. and Trans.). Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press.

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Garfinkel, H. (1967). StudiPs in ethnomethodology. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Pt-cntice-Hall. Giddens, A. (1980). The constitution ofsoriety. Cambridge, U.K.: Polity Press. Holquist, M. (1983). Answering as authoring: Mikhail Bakhtin's trans-linguistics. Critiml

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bakhtin and vygotsky: internalization as a boundary phenomenon

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