For the last few centuries, there
has been a strong movement to reduce things to the formal and logical; in
mathematics (Frege, Russell, Hilbert, Gödel); in physics (QCD, string theory); in
chemistry (cf. Linus Pauling’s claim to have reduced the science to quantum
physics in his book The Nature of the
Chemical Bond and the Structure of Molecules and Crystals); and in the
study of language (analytic philosophy in general).
In recent decades, a counter-movement has emphasized the importance of figuration, narrative, imagination, and myth. Literary scholars like Northrop Frye and Kenneth Burke insisted that “Figures of speech are not the ornaments of language, but the elements of both language and thought” (Frye “Elementary Teaching and Elemental Scholarship” The Stubborn Structure 94); now cognitive scientists show us how imagination shapes our experience through conceptual blending, aspect schemas and conceptual metaphors (the final paragraph of George Lakoff and Mark Johnson’s Metaphors We Live By expresses essentially the same idea as the quote from Frye above). Scholars in various fields are now exploring how figuration, myth and narrative shape our philosophy (John Milbank, The Future of Love), our language about sin (Gary A. Anderson, Sin: a History), and our ever-violent history (Walter Wink, Gil Bailie, René Girard, & David Bentley Hart).
I believe these ideas could evolve into something as fundamental to the humanities and culture as mathematics is to the sciences. The interdisciplinary field that has done much of this work is called “cognitive science,” but I prefer to think of the hypothetical final result of it all as “criticism,” in deference to Frye’s use of the term (cf. his “Polemical Introduction” to his Anatomy of Criticism).
Milbank explains how certain questionable theological decisions have shaped our philosophy (“Faith, Reason, and Imagination” The Future of Love 325ff.), and the essential role of narrative in postmodern thinking (“Postmodern Critical Augustinianism”). Anderson (Sin: A History) looks at the shift in Biblical metaphors, from “sin is a weight” (and the scapegoat ritual derived from it) to “sin is a debt” (and the parables of Jesus, as well as the Lord’s Prayer)—a scholar working in the mode of Lakoff and Johnson would no doubt point to the common conceptual metaphor “debt is weight” to help explain this shift. David Graeber (Debt: the First 5,000 Years) examines money imagery in the West, including the Bible (326ff.).
Decades ago, Owen Barfield examined the relationship between the poetic art and legal reasoning in “Poetic Diction and Legal Fiction.” A properly developed theory of what I have called “criticism” would be helpful in examining law and legal reasoning, from legal fictions to such shaping metaphors as “fruit from the poisoned tree.”
Perhaps one of the most fruitful applications could be to the discussion of evolution. Evolution itself is, of course—whatever else it may be—a very useful metaphor, an idea the wide applicability of which prompted Daniel Dennett’s description of it as a “universal acid” that dissolves all it touches. Perhaps even more interesting is Cornelius Hunter’s argument that theological notions underlie much discussion of evolution (Finding Darwin’s God). An inherent aspect of this theological thinking—although Hunter does not himself note this—is the conceptual metaphor: “God is an engineer,” with all the expectations that come from that (efficiency of design and function, general independence of each act of design, etc.). Much could come of an examination of how different our thinking becomes if we change this to “God is an artist” or even “God is a musician” (the latter of these, as Hart and Milbank point out, goes back to Augustine).
In short: myth, metaphor, narrative and imagination play key roles in our thought, language and culture. Currently, research from several different directions, and several different fields, is converging towards an innovative shift in using these ideas to study human culture, a shift that could be as significant as the application of mathematics to the sciences. This is just a glimpse of what is happening now. The question is: how do we help bring all this together? And what role can each of us play?
In recent decades, a counter-movement has emphasized the importance of figuration, narrative, imagination, and myth. Literary scholars like Northrop Frye and Kenneth Burke insisted that “Figures of speech are not the ornaments of language, but the elements of both language and thought” (Frye “Elementary Teaching and Elemental Scholarship” The Stubborn Structure 94); now cognitive scientists show us how imagination shapes our experience through conceptual blending, aspect schemas and conceptual metaphors (the final paragraph of George Lakoff and Mark Johnson’s Metaphors We Live By expresses essentially the same idea as the quote from Frye above). Scholars in various fields are now exploring how figuration, myth and narrative shape our philosophy (John Milbank, The Future of Love), our language about sin (Gary A. Anderson, Sin: a History), and our ever-violent history (Walter Wink, Gil Bailie, René Girard, & David Bentley Hart).
I believe these ideas could evolve into something as fundamental to the humanities and culture as mathematics is to the sciences. The interdisciplinary field that has done much of this work is called “cognitive science,” but I prefer to think of the hypothetical final result of it all as “criticism,” in deference to Frye’s use of the term (cf. his “Polemical Introduction” to his Anatomy of Criticism).
Milbank explains how certain questionable theological decisions have shaped our philosophy (“Faith, Reason, and Imagination” The Future of Love 325ff.), and the essential role of narrative in postmodern thinking (“Postmodern Critical Augustinianism”). Anderson (Sin: A History) looks at the shift in Biblical metaphors, from “sin is a weight” (and the scapegoat ritual derived from it) to “sin is a debt” (and the parables of Jesus, as well as the Lord’s Prayer)—a scholar working in the mode of Lakoff and Johnson would no doubt point to the common conceptual metaphor “debt is weight” to help explain this shift. David Graeber (Debt: the First 5,000 Years) examines money imagery in the West, including the Bible (326ff.).
Decades ago, Owen Barfield examined the relationship between the poetic art and legal reasoning in “Poetic Diction and Legal Fiction.” A properly developed theory of what I have called “criticism” would be helpful in examining law and legal reasoning, from legal fictions to such shaping metaphors as “fruit from the poisoned tree.”
Perhaps one of the most fruitful applications could be to the discussion of evolution. Evolution itself is, of course—whatever else it may be—a very useful metaphor, an idea the wide applicability of which prompted Daniel Dennett’s description of it as a “universal acid” that dissolves all it touches. Perhaps even more interesting is Cornelius Hunter’s argument that theological notions underlie much discussion of evolution (Finding Darwin’s God). An inherent aspect of this theological thinking—although Hunter does not himself note this—is the conceptual metaphor: “God is an engineer,” with all the expectations that come from that (efficiency of design and function, general independence of each act of design, etc.). Much could come of an examination of how different our thinking becomes if we change this to “God is an artist” or even “God is a musician” (the latter of these, as Hart and Milbank point out, goes back to Augustine).
In short: myth, metaphor, narrative and imagination play key roles in our thought, language and culture. Currently, research from several different directions, and several different fields, is converging towards an innovative shift in using these ideas to study human culture, a shift that could be as significant as the application of mathematics to the sciences. This is just a glimpse of what is happening now. The question is: how do we help bring all this together? And what role can each of us play?
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