The upper part of the IPL, the supramarginal gyrus, is also unique to humans, and is directly involved in the production, comprehension, and imitation of complex skills. Once again, these abilities are especially well developed in us compared with the great apes. When the left supramarginal gyrus is damaged, the result is apraxia, which is a fascinating disorder. A patient with apraxia is mentally normal in most respects, including his ability to understand and produce language. Yet when you ask him to mime a simple action—“pretend you are hammering a nail”—he will make a fist and bang it on the table instead of holding a “pretend” handle as you or I might. If asked to pretend he is combing his hair, he might stroke his hair with his palm or wiggle his fingers in his hair instead of “holding” and moving an imaginary comb through his hair. If requested to pretend waving goodbye, he may stare at his hand intently trying to figure out what to do or flail it around near his face. But if questioned, “What does ‘waving goodbye’ mean?” he might say, “Well, it’s what you do when you are parting company,” so obviously he clearly understands at a conceptual level what’s expected. Furthermore, his hands are not paralyzed or clumsy: He can move individual fingers as gracefully and independently as any of us. What’s missing is the ability to conjure up a vibrant, dynamic internal picture of the required action which can be used to guide the orchestration of muscle twitches to mime the action. Not surprisingly, putting the actual hammer in his hand may (as it does in some patients) lead to accurate performance since it doesn’t require him to rely on an internal image of the hammer.
Three additional points about these patients. First, they cannot judge whether someone else is performing the requested action correctly or not, reminding us that their problem lies in neither motor ability nor perception but in
But what caused the accelerated evolution of the IPL—and the angular gyrus part of it—in the first place? Did the selection pressure come from the need for higher forms of abstraction? Probably not. The most likely cause of its explosive development in primates was the need to achieve an exquisitely refined, fine-grained interaction between vision and muscle and joint position sense while negotiating branches on treetops. This resulted in the capacity of cross-modal abstraction, for example, when a branch is signaled as being horizontal both by the image falling on the retina and the dynamic stimulation of touch, joint, and muscle receptors in the hands.
The next step was critical: The lower part of the IPL split accidentally, possibly as a result of gene duplication, a frequent occurrence in evolution. The upper part, the supramarginal gyrus, retained the old function of its ancestral lobule—hand-eye coordination—elaborating it to the new levels of sophistication required for skilled tool use and imitation in humans. In the angular gyrus the very same computational ability set the stage (became an exaptation) for other types of abstraction as well: the ability to extract the common denominator among superficially dissimilar entities. A weeping willow looks sad because you project sadness on to it. Juliet is the sun because you can abstract certain things they have in common. Five donkeys and five apples have “fiveness” in common.
A tangential piece of evidence for this idea comes from my examination of patients who have damage to the IPL of the left hemisphere. These patients usually have anomia. (difficulty finding words), but I found that some of them failed the bouba-kiki test and were also abysmal at interpreting proverbs, often interpreting them literally instead of metaphorically. One patient I saw in India recently got 14 out of 15 proverbs wrong even though he was perfectly intelligent in other respects. Obviously this study needs to be repeated on additional patients but it promises to be a fruitful line of enquiry.