Let’s consider that every language act is an attempt at name giving. That is to say, every utterance, written sentence or other expression-form is based on trying to create a link between a sign-vehicle (word, picture, gesture or anything) and an experience (i’ll expand on it briefly).
For example, when one says /Every cat has four legs/ that is a way to convey «I will use the name CAT from now on to stand to things that have four legs and only things that have four legs». Or, in a more diagrammatic form: «LET /cat/ → thing with four legs».
Obviously, the language acts are not deterministic or complete in themselves. It is always possible to expand, contradict, and complexify the relation between the NAME and the experience. For example, if one says latter /some cats have orange fur/ that would add to the previous sentence, like «LET /cat/ → (thing with four legs AND MAYBE orange fur) ». And things could get murkier and murkier, with constructs like /but some cats lose their legs in accidents/.
What is being linked to the sign-vehicle is not a language unit, nor a cultural form, nor a entity existing purely in the code-space of a determined language. It is an experience, in the sense of being a part of the speaker’s life, an aspect of his cognitive process. The speaker, not the listener.
How clearly the listener can discern what that experience actually is varies wildly, and by now i will leave this question as unsolvable. Nevertheless, the possibility of sharing this experience is not needed for the possibility of communication.
The LET instruction in pseudo-code above does not imply that the utterance is imperative. It does not imply «from now on every instance of NAME must be equivalent to MEANING», but only «in my following language acts it is suggested to accept MEANING to be related to NAME». In reality, it is not even practical to expect the suggestion to be followed, for there is at first no guarantee that the experience alluded was correctly identified.
In that way, the most simple language act is the mentioning. The sense here is not the same as pointing at something (the classic mention example), but precisely the explicit control of some part of the listener’s experience of the world. For example, say /blood/ at the same time you rub your bloody hand over the face of your peer, or (in a more believable stance) say /bad baby/ at the same time as one is conspicuously making the baby suffer. But remember that one is not forcing a “content” in the listener’s experience, only controlling his experience in a specific way, and the comprehension he forms is his own business.
The prolonged practice of language will gradually increase the level of complexity. At some point, the language act’s elements are mostly language based. That is, more and more, one uses words to refer to words. But the language act will never be closed or limited by predefined vocabulary sizes or a fixed set of allowed language structures.
That means that even complex syntactical structures will still be forms of naming. A description is simply an attempted attribution of a temporary name, that sometimes might be composed of a pointing action or a contextualizing word such as /this/ or /that/. (Though it might be more precise to see the generalized form of naming as a specific case of the rule of relatively temporary name giving). So /that cat is climbing the stairs/ is like «(/that/ + /cat/) → (something that climbs stairs + now)».
One of the many results of this hypothesis is that language acts are mostly individualistic. There is little reference to an independent (and somewhat complete) code-structure, a specific grammar which exists in a superior collective plane, to which the individual must only comply, a stable code that the speaker must obey.
Not only that, this hypothesis doesn’t explain why would someone try to give name to things. For if one uses it strictly, language acts always go in only one direction — from experience to language, but never from language to experience.
The obvious incongruence is with an order. For example, when someone says to me /Jump!/ and following that I do perform a leap, what exactly is happening, and specifically to our present concern, what role does language plays in that relationship?
In fact, this hypothesis is incomplete from it’s inception: for it to make any sense, it lacks a theory of power. And this theory would explain how speakers can influence each other. I have a perfect demonstration, but this margin is too narrow.