The following quotation is from Literary Theory: An Introduction, by Terry Eagleton:
For phenomenological criticism, the language of a literary work is little more than an ‘expression’ of its inner meanings. This somewhat secondhand view of language runs back to Husserl himself. For there is really little place for language as such in Husserlian phenomenology. Husserl speaks of a purely private or internal sphere of experience; but such a sphere is in fact a fiction, since all experience involves language and language is ineradicably social. To claim that I am having a wholly private experience is meaningless: I would not be able to have an experience in the first place unless it took place in the terms of some language within which I could identify it.
I actually disagree with the emphasised part of this. Animals probably have experience. Small children have experiences. People who were raised by wolves and have no language nevertheless have experiences. I find the idea that subjective experience requires language to be a little odd. There is so much about the world as I experience it that is so utterly beyond language that I really don’t know where to start with disagreeing with it.
Ken MacLeod holds a similar belief:
Subjectivity is inseparable from language. Although emerging from animal sensation, animal emotion and animal signalling, conscious reflection and self-awareness are unique to human beings. We can name the prey, but they don’t name themselves.
Again, I disagree. Or at least, I would argue we cannot (yet) be so certain. Dogs and cats experience things; they certainly experience pain. The point is we don’t yet really understand the nature of subjective experience; but for the time being I remain un-persuaded that animals do not experience pain in a similar fashion to people. Animals are not automatons (or perhaps they are, and perhaps we are, but we are still automatons that possess qualia and intentionality, whatever these things may be). In Straw Dogs, John Gray tells us that:
Plato and Descartes tell us that consciousness is what marks off humans from other animals. Plato believed that ultimate reality is spiritual, and that humans are alone among animals in being at least dimly conscious of it. Descartes saw humans as thinking beings. He declared he knew he existed only because he found himself thinking – ‘Cogito, ergo sum’ (I think, therefore I am) – and that animals were mere machines. Yet cats, dogs and horses display awareness of their surroundings; they experience themselves as acting or failing to act; they have thoughts and sensations.
Despite an ancient tradition that tells us otherwise, there is nothing uniquely human in conscious awareness.
This is one of those areas where I find myself more in agreement with John Gray and Montaigne than with MacLeod and Eagleton. But the dispute ultimately returns to the gap between the subjective and the objective, between what we feel and what is true, between the object and the subject. This gap between the subjective world of individual experience and the “real world” that (we suppose) exists “out there” is the mystery. I look forward to further progress in this regard.