Category Archives: Knowledge

5 books on knowledge and expertise: Reading list for exploring the role of knowledge and deliberate practice in the development of expert performance

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Recently, I’ve been exploring the notion of explanation and understanding. I was (partly implicitly) relying on the notion of ‘mental representations’ as built through deliberate practice. My plan was to write next about how I think we can reconceptualize deliberate practice in such a way that it draws on a richer conception of ‘mental representations’. But that is turning out to be a much longer project.

Meanwhile, in a recent conversation about teaching practitioners, somebody mentioned reading Kahneman’s ‘Thinking Fast and Slow’ as being relevant to the problem and we discussed maybe starting a reading group. This got me thinking about what should such a reading group have on its reading list.

The literature on expertise is vast (just look at the Cambridge Handbook of Expertise and Expert Performance). In my proposed reading list, I would focus on identifying different perspectives on how our mental representations of the world are structured, how we develop them (or how we can help others develop them), how we solve problems with them, and how they are embedded in the social environment in which we function.

1. Thinking Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman (2011)

Kahneman’s famous book is not really focused on experts but rather on the limitations of our thought – summarised under the heuristics and biases banner. But Kahneman’s notion of ‘System 1’ (fast) and ‘System 2’ (slow) thinking is directly relevant to the question of expertise. Expertise means that one can think about complex issues quickly but also that one can analyze that same issue with deliberate attention to detail. Exactly how this applies to the question of educating experts is a matter of discussion that I think the other books on my list can help elucidate.

2. Peak: Secrets from the new science of expertise by Anders Ericsson with Robert Pool (2016)

In this book, Ericsson (helped by journalist Pool) provides an outline of a cognitive mechanism by which fast thinking is acquired without the sacrifice of deliberation in the concept of ‘delibrate practice’. I propose that the key to understanding deliberate practice is not the process of practice but rather on Ericsson’s rethinking of the target that the practice should help us achieve. According to Ercisson, what delibrate practice leads is not knowledge or skill but rather ‘mental representations’. Mental representations are best thought of as chunks of knowledge (frames, scripts, schemas, etc. – which makes this approach overlap with Kahneman and Tversky’s work even though Ericsson does not mention this). This allows experts to perform complex mental operations on very rich subject domains which would be beyond the computational powers of anyone’s pure raw intelligence. The best analogy is being able to play chess or speaking a language – this is impossible by simply knowing the rules – we need a rich complex of mental representations to compete at chess or to speak with any fluency.

3. The Way We Think: Conceptual Blending and the Mind’s Hidden Complexities by Gilles Fauconnier and Mark Turner (2002)

Where Kahneman provides the framework and Ericsson the mechanism of acquisition, Fauconnier and Turner offer us a much more detailed description of the actual structure of ‘mental representation’ and how it is used during live processing of information. Building on work in cognitive linguistics and semantics, they develop the notion of ‘conceptual integration’ (or ‘blending’ as it’s more popularly referred to in the field) that explains how multiple ‘mental spaces’ or ‘domains’ can be merged seemingly without any conscious effort into new domains (blends) that we can then build further understanding on.

In this context, I’d also recommend reading the parts of Lakoff’s ‘Women, Fire, and Dangerous Things’ that describe what he then called ‘Idealized Cognitive Models’ and now calls ‘frames’. The book is quite vast and not all of it relevant to this question, which is why I wrote a guide to it.

4. Rethinking Expertise by Harry Collins and Robert Evans (2008)

What’s missing in all the works I’ve looked at so far is any awareness of the social embeddedness of expert performance. There is little discussion of types or levels of expertise and barely any mention of how experts interact with one another. In ‘Rethinking Expertise‘, Collins and Evans propose what they call a ‘periodic table of expertise’ (which happens to overlap quite nicely with my 5 types of understanding). They think not just about the specialist expert knowledge but also about what they call ‘ubiquitous expertise’ – all the underlying skills and knowledge required to even get started (such as languages, basic social skills, metacognition, etc.). Most importantly, they also pay attention to ‘meta-expertise’, i.e. how non-experts evaluate experts and experts judge other experts.

Their notion of expertise relies on the concept of ‘tacit knowledge’ (later developed by Collins in a separate book) which is reminiscent of Ericsson’s ‘mental representations’ and echoes Kahneman, as well.

5. Reflective Practitioner: How professionals think in action by Donald A. Schön (1983)

While Schön’s book has had a profound impact in terms of citation and ways of thinking, I suggest that it has been largely under-appreciated for its depth of epistemological insight. Despite being more than 2 decades older than any of the other books on this list, it is very much still relevant. It considers the very nature of ‘practical knowledge’ as opposed to ‘academic knowledge’. Schön, more than any of the others thinks about the practical needs of a person needing to achieve practical tasks with their knowledge in a complex situation. He highlights the tensions between the technical preparation of experts that focuses on knowledge about a subject and the practical needs of a practitioner who needs to act in such a way that simply recalling information would not be sufficient. His concept of ‘reflection-in-action’ could be seen as a precursor or better still a companion to the notion of ‘deliberate practice’.

Schön followed this up with Educating The Reflective Practitioner which focuses on the practical question of structuring a training course. Another reason to include Schön on this list is that he focuses more directly on ‘professional’ expertise.

Bringing it all together

What these books have in common is an underlying conception of knowledge and its processing. But what they lack is almost any awareness of each other. This makes them add up to more than just the sum of their parts.

Kahneman mentions Ericsson in a footnote and Ericsson and Collins appear jointly in the Cambridge Handbook I mentioned at the start. But they largely travel in separate spheres. Bizarrely, none of them refers to Schön. And all of them are completely unaware of Fauconnier and Turner, who in turn ignore the work done outside their field of cognition (even though we can trace the lineage of their work on cognitive domains directly to Schön’s earlier work on metaphor).

All these approaches are clearly converging on the same thing but they don’t do it using the same terminology, methods or even a shared conceptual framework. Which is why reading just any one of them would probably not be enough to get at the full scope of the issues involved.

I’m not certain that this selection is the most representative of the field. It is certainly not exhaustive and it is definitely shaped by my idiosyncratic intellectual journey and personal interests. But my hope is that it does triangulate the problem domain in a way that a more narrowly focused selection would not.

5 kinds of understanding and metaphors: Missing pieces in pedagogical taxonomies

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TL;DR

This post outlines 5 levels or types of understanding to help us better to think about the role of metaphor in explanation:

  1. Associative understanding: Place a concept in context without any understanding.
  2. Dictionary understanding: Repeat definitions, give examples, and make basic connections.
  3. Inferential understanding: Make useful inferences based on knowledge about – but without ability to use the understanding in practice. Requires more than just one concept.
  4. Instrumental understanding: Use the understanding as part of work in a field of expertise. Impossible to acquire for an isolated concept.
  5. Creative understanding: Transform understanding of one domain by importing elements from another. Requires instrumental understanding – goes beyond hints and hunches.

Introduction

In a previous post, I proposed three uses of metaphor leading to different levels of understanding.

  1. Metaphor as invitation
  2. Metaphor as an tool
  3. Metaphor as catalyst

Only 2 and 3 led to any meaningful understanding and that could only be achieved by acquiring some ‘native’ structure of the target domain. But I was rather loose with how I used the word ‘understanding’. I was using notions like ‘meaningful understanding’ or ‘useful understanding’ but never went into any detail. That is the purpose of this post.

In what follows, I provide a sketch for one way of classifying different kinds of understanding. They are not meant to be descriptions or even discovery of some sort of ‘natural kinds’. Instead, I find them to be a useful way of looking at understanding from the perspective of metaphoric cognition.

Associative understanding

Associative understanding is the ability to place something in a context or category without necessarily knowing almost anything about it. So, we may know that an emu is a flightless bird without knowing anything else about it. We could also think of this kind of understanding as a vague notion.

This is the kind of understanding the vast majority of education leaves us with after a few years. Watching a documentary, a TV quiz show, or reading a popular news article fosters this kind of understanding.

Many people can get very far with displaying this kind of understanding – such as con artists impersonating doctors – by successfully imitating experts. The famous Sokal hoax was based on the same principle – making plausible sounding noises can get you published in a prestigious publication. But it is even possible to pass a poorly constructed multiple choice knowledge test with just this understanding by being able to eliminate the wrong options rather than by knowing the correct ones.

The associations can be of various kinds. They can be in the form of basic-category labels (such as – this is an animal). They could place the thing into a discipline – such as ‘something they do in chemistry’. And they could simply be in the form of ‘this is the thing that my friend always talks about’. Or they could also just be parts of the cultural vocabulary without a proper object of understanding.

For example, in the 1960s there was a famous pop song called ‘Pták Rosomák’ (The Bird Wolverine). The band simply liked the sound of the Czech word for ‘wolverine’ and its rhyme with the word for ‘bird’. Wolverines are not native to Europe or well known outside of this song. I did not find out what the word meant until I learned it in English (I also knew what the word wolverine meant long before I looked it up in a Czech dictionary). When I presented this at a conference on cognition in Prague, most Czech academics present were surprised by the meaning. Yet, if you asked them – do you understand the word ‘rosomák’, they would have said ‘of course, I do’. But it was just an associative understanding.

My claim is that the vast majority of what passes for understanding and knowledge in ‘polite society’ is of the associative kind. People feel comfortable when concepts like evolution or philosophy are mentioned but have only the vaguest idea of where they belong.

My favourite example of this is Monty Python’s ‘Philosopher’s song‘. All the audience needs to know to appreciate the jokes is that there is a philosopher stereotype and that certain names are of philosophers. In fact, by their own admission (citation needed but I did hear it in an interview), the authors of these sketches also did not know much more than the names. Even the little nod to knowledge in ‘John Stuart Mill of his own free will’ is just a glimmer of something deeper.

Associative understanding is pretty much only useful for social signalling. It can also play a role in making a new field appear more familiar in later stages. I have had that experience several times when vague memories from school made me feel more confident I was on the right track when I set about studying a subject in depth even if I had very little more than a vague feeling about something. But on its own, this kind of understanding has little practical value.

In formal instruction, we generally start with the next step but over time, without practice, this is the kind of understanding, we’re left with. But in literature on pedagogy, it is mostly unaddressed. It is the kind of understanding below the bottom rung of Bloom’s taxonomy. But many teachers encounter it when at the end of classes students come and ask questions that barely show a hint of an understanding that makes it seem like they may not have even been in the same room.

Lexical understanding

At this level, we can repeat a definition as we might find it in a dictionary and give a few examples. We can look at a picture and say, this is an emu. It lives in Australia and it is a kind of ostrich. For something like an emu, it may well be enough for most of us.

This is the kind of understanding we may be able to take away from a quick explanation of something. It is the sort of understanding most tests check for. It is also often used as a proxy for intelligence or ‘being smart’. Lexical understanding is what is required of successful quiz show panellists. UK shows such as ‘Mastermind’, ‘Brain of Britain’ or ‘University Challenge’ are great examples of these.

Conversely, lack of lexical (and sometimes even associative) understanding is also often given as an example of educational decline or lack of intelligence.

This would be roughly equivalent to the ‘Knowledge’ and ‘Comprehension’ levels on the Bloom’s taxonomy. It is the minimum target for instruction but it is very unstable. Unless it has been recently used, it often reverts to associative kind of understanding.

This kind of understanding is generally not very useful outside the educational context. This is the kind of understanding that is the result of ‘teaching to the test’. It can be leveraged into something more but only with practice and application.

In terms, of frames or mental representations, we could say that the only mental representations developed as part of this understanding are propositional or rich imagery. Meaning, we have sentences or images in our head that we can draw on but we would find it very hard to combine them into larger wholes.

This level and the transition from this level to the next are where what we call pedagogy plays the most important role.

Inferential understanding

This kind of understanding lets us make useful inferences about the concept in context. It requires some knowledge of a whole domain or several domains. You can never understand a solitary concept at this level. But it does not necessarily require deep ability or skill. I know nothing about emus, so I cannot think of an example that would not be misleadingly trivial.

But I have a personal example from when I was recently catching up on the latest developments in machine learning. I was reading about different types of neural nets. And when I was reading about CNNs (Convolutional Neural Networks) which are usually used for images, I had an idea for using the similar approach to process language by representing text in a way similar to the way images are represented. And it turned out there are already papers and models out there that do just that.

Inferential understanding is the kind of understanding that good students develop about favorite subjects that they pursue later. The kind of understanding that collaborators develop about each others’ discipline in interdisciplinary projects. The kind of understanding good generalist managers develop about the domains in which they supervise subject experts. Or really good journalists develop about areas on which they report. This is also the kind of understanding experts have about related fields or that teachers have about some of the more advanced areas of their field.

The sociologist of science Harry Collins described in one of his books (I think it was ‘Rethinking Expertise’) how he could pass some knowledge tests in gravitational wave physics better than professional physicists from adjacent specialisations. This was after many years of observing these physicists but without any real ability to the actual calculations or research required.

It may not always be easy to tell the boundary between this and lexical or even associative understanding. This is the kind of understanding potentially displayed by an audience member at a lecture who asks a question that is then described as ‘a good question’ by the presenter. But often this is just a fluke. A random hit based on superficial resemblance of words in a definition.

This is the kind of understanding that sort of ‘does not count’ in the terms of Bloom’s hierarchy. We feel it is insufficient because it is not something people consciously aim at in instruction. But it is in many ways the best we can hope for. It is the first kind of any useful knowledge.

It requires more developed mental representations. Representations where the definitions and rich images are replaced by schemas and scenarios. These are a sort of useful compressions that can be blended (or integrated) with others. What it means that when reasoning with these concepts, we can use them as whole units (mental chunks) rather than laboriously compute them from first principles.

It may also derive from some basic level of instrumental understanding. The humour in XKCD cartoons can be understood with a combination of inferential and instrumental understanding. I immediately understood this comic famous among programmers without being a programmer myself but having some skills with databases and knowledge of common problems with security.

But for the most part, we cannot use this understanding for actual work. This is where the humanities and sciences often diverge. It is possible to pretend (even to oneself) that this understanding lets us do real useful work in history or sociology. Whereas with mathematics, engineering, medicine, or biology, the barrier between this and instrumental understanding is much more clearly defined by specialised tools such as mathematics and chemistry. But if we look at the many former physicists or biologists who have tried their hand at philosophy, sociology or even literary criticism, we see that even here, this kind of understanding is not enough.

You really need more to have a chance of doing something useful.

Instrumental understanding

This is the kind of understanding experts and practitioners have. It requires being able to use the concepts or tools in practice. I don’t have any instrumental understanding of convolutional neural networks. I couldn’t build one and possibly couldn’t even reconstruct the exact way in which it works.

This level of understanding or ability or skills requires more than just reading or learning about. It requires practice and building of mental representations which only comes from long-term engagement with a subject. For example, I don’t have that kind of understanding of neural nets, but I do have it of metaphor.

I can create metaphors, identify them in text, speak to the controversies around them, compare and contrast the various theories of metaphor. I can teach somebody how metaphors work. I can write a successful paper or give a conference presentation in the field. If somebody wants to know about metaphor they can come to me. Other people with good instrumental understanding of metaphor may disagree with some of what I have to say, but they won’t do it (I hope) as they would with somebody who has just an associative, lexical or even inferential level of understanding – e.g. knowing that metaphor has something to do with poetry. You have to put in the work.

This work may require actual repetitive practice (such as working out math problems or analysing text). It absolutely requires extensive engagement with other experts in the field. Taking classes, going to conferences, reading latest research, writing papers, blogs, etc. That’s why loner autodidacts almost never reach this level of understanding.

Here the distinction between understanding and ability or skill becomes blurred. Mental representations develop at the highest levels of schematicity. This means that an expert can look at a very complex situation and treat it as one unit that can be blended with other complex units in a way that only the relevant parts are engaged.

For instance, I can read a complex argument about metaphor and immediately compare with three other complex arguments about metaphor – not because I have a large mental capacity for abstract concepts but because I have developed a number of highly schematic mental representations about the shapes of arguments people make about metaphor. This way, I can project these schemas onto the argument as one big chunk.

Perhaps an even better analogy is learning a foreign language. I may know all the rules and words but I cannot speak the language with any level of fluency until I have developed larger chunks I can just slightly modify. It is simply impossible for even the most highly mentally endowed human to dredge up individual words, apply rules to them and combine them into a sentence quickly enough to speak with any level of coherence. It’s even worse for understanding. Just reading a text with a dictionary is such a slow affair that we forget what a sentence was about before we get to the end.

In other words, we can then define instrumental understanding as developing a basic fluency in the language of the discipline. And this takes time, targetted practice, and active ‘communicative’ engagement across a whole field.

In the ‘hard sciences,’ it requires a good facility with formalisms or even equipment and in the ‘softer’ disciplines it relies on extensive reading, talking, and writing.

Here we are at a much wider aperture of our knowledge funnel. It is therefore impossible to exactly compare 2 people’s levels of instrumental understanding. Everybody will have a slightly different set of mental representations. Also, many people will only be able to ‘perform’ at this level some of the time or only for small chunks of their discipline.

At this level, pedagogy is much less relevant. This is where it makes a lot less sense to talk about teaching and learning if only because it is impossible to acquire this level of understanding purely in the classroom. Training, coaching or even an apprenticeship are much better models.

Creative understanding

Creative understanding is instrumental understanding with a transformative element. This requires knowledge of several domains and their creative intermingling. It is the sort of understanding innovators in their field have. This can lead us to a complete rejection of the thing we understand as an independent concept.

For example, I have long argued that metaphor is only one place in language where domain projection occurs and that we should not think of it as something special but rather as a shortcut for thinking about broader phenomena of framing or cognitive models. I found this a useful way of extending the concept. So, I can make a serious statement such as ‘metaphor and metonymy are the same thing’ that can be productive in the study of metaphor. But it only makes sense because I can actually distinguish between metaphors, similies, synechdoches or metonymies, and I can also reproduce arguments that maintain that the difference between metaphor and metonymy is crucial for understanding figurative language.

It is hard to say whether this type of understanding is even a part of the funnel hierarchy. Perhaps it is just an ingredient (catalyst) to instrumental understanding. But I do want to stress that it only works as a catalyst to instrumental understanding. As I showed in my post on types of metaphors, creativity needs to start from somewhere.

We may often confuse almost accidental insights by people with inferential or even just lexical understanding for creativity. But this is like recognising a melody in the sounds a child makes by randomly banging on the piano keyboard.

We often valorise the outsider perspective in a field. And it certainly can act as a catalyst for creativity but only if it has proper instrumental understanding to lean on.

Conclusions and limitations

I cannot stress enough that this classification is just a useful heuristics. I am not claiming that this kind of classification of understanding is exhaustive or even that it represents some sort of a natural category. But I found it useful when thinking about explanations and pedagogy.

Approaches to classifying understanding

It is quite common to distinguish between shallow and deep understanding. This is intuitively obvious but not very helpful because it assumes the existence of some sort of objective scale of a depth of understanding.

We can also distinguish understanding from knowledge for example by differentiating between explicit and tacit knowledge. Understanding and explicit knowledge intuitively overlap even if we don’t have a firm definition of either. If we understand something, we can mentally manipulate it and, most importantly, pass it along.

But the boundaries between tacit and explicit knowledge are not firm. All explicit knowledge depends on some tacit knowledge – or in other words, all understanding depends on knowledge. We could even say that deep learning is the process of transforming understanding into knowledge. In the sense, that we need to build up schematic mental representations to be able to manipulate ever more complex combinations of concepts.

Another way to try to get at understanding is to investigate how to achieve it. Bloom’s taxonomy of educational objectives is one famous example. There are many tweaks and elaborations – some as extreme as Jack Koumi’s 33 pedagogic roles. But they are ultimately not very satisfying because they already assume we know what the understanding is.

Understandings as a process revisited: The wave and the funnel

Even though these different types of understanding are ‘broadly hierarchical’, I want the emphasis to be on ‘broadly’. It would make no sense to think of these as a straightforward linear hierarchy measurable on a scale of discrete and comparable units. They are more like overlapping waves. Layers of water covering the beach in successive bursts as the tide is coming in.

But that metaphor does not make it easy to visualise the differences and mutual interdependence. It only evokes how hard and unreliable it is to do so. But for the purposes of this comparison, I’d like to offer something more like a funnel (which I also brought up in the context of the metaphor explanation hierarchy) or inverted cone.

The substance that fills the funnel might be a mixture of effort and coverage of material. This makes it easy to visualise the fact that it takes much more effort, time and background knowledge to get from level 3 to level 4 than it does to get from level 1 to level 2. Also, at the higher levels, the concepts themselves transform and interconnect. So it is not possible to understand them in isolation.

This truly takes into account the processual nature of understanding. The funnel also needs to be constantly topped up to maintain certain levels. But it can also underscore the fact that we can never perfectly compare 2 people’s levels of understanding. Because at the higher levels, the funnel is so broad, not everybody will have filled it in the same way with exactly the same substance.

I got this idea from ACTFL language competency levels and I think it is one of the most underappreciated metaphors in education.

Another really useful thing ACTFL does is that it defines low, mid and high sublevels for each competency levels. And a part of the definition of the ‘high’ sublevel is that the person can function at the ‘low’ sublevel of the next level about half the time. (E.g. a Novice-Low can function as Intermediate-Low about 50% of the time). During the test (most often an interview), the examiner establishes a floor and a ceiling rather than pinpointing an exact point on a scale.

This very much applies to the levels in my metaphor. There are no clear boundaries between these levels of understandings. In as much as they are levels in the first place.

Explanation is an event, understanding is a process: How (not) to explain anything with metaphor

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TL;DR

  • There are at least 3 uses of metaphor in the educational process: 1. Invitation to enter; 2. An instrument to grasp knowledge with; 3. Catalyst to transform understanding. Many educators assume that 1 is enough but it rarely leads to any useful understanding.
  • Explanation is a salient part of the educational process to such an extent that it is often allowed to stand for all of it even though it is only one step.
  • Explanation often helps the person doing the explaining more than the person being explained at.
  • Metaphors and explanations have been misused by educators from Socrates to Rousseau.
  • A metaphor can only be successful if the student already has some knowledge of the target domain. Knowledge of the source domain is often less important.
  • Metaphor only makes sense if it is a part of a process. A process of learning. It doesn’t do much good on its own.

How metaphors work in helping us understand things

Teachers love explaining things. Students love understanding things. On the rare occasions that the two coincide, the feeling of joy shines like a beacon for the power of explanation. Teachers tell stories of seeing the “lightbulbs come on” in their students’ eyes. Students remember fondly the ecstatic moments of sudden illumination as their teacher’s words suddenly lit up the darkness within them. Thus the myth of teaching as explaining and learning as understanding those explanations was born.

Most of the more powerful explanations rely on metaphor in the broadest possible sense. In fact, all explanation is to some extent metaphorical in that it provides a projection from one domain of understanding onto another. Metaphor brings out the familiar – or ex plains it – in the unfamiliar. Or so the story goes.

We can think of the metaphoric projection as putting two thin sheets of paper over each other and looking at them against a bright light. What can be on these sheets? Sketches, images, words or even just smudges of color. The projection then obscures certain things and shows others in new contexts. Sometimes, with more complex slides we may see completely new shapes and color hues. The process of making sense of the metaphor then involves slight adjustments in how those two sheets align against one another. This can be described as the metaphor giving a new structure to the target domain.

Another way to think about metaphoric projection is as two sets of items which are mapped onto each other. We can put the sets side by side and draw lines between items we think match. Or we can take them out and place them side by side in a new set. We often see them displayed in this way.

Note: This way of thinking about metaphor started with Lakoff and Johnson’s ‘Metaphors we live by’ from 1980. This led to the formulation of the Conceptual Metaphor Theory. It was later developed into a more general theory of frames or mental models by Turner and Fauconnier (2002) known as the theory of conceptual integration or blending. But it can also be found in Donald A Schön’s ‘Displacement of Concepts’ from 1963 which indirectly inspired Lakoff and Johnson.

But despite all this, it is easy to overlook that in order to form a projection from one mental space into another, we have to have some structure in both. In fact, metaphor often assumes equal knowledge of both domains, and in the process of making a projection from one another, a new previously unimagined structure emerges that is a blend of both domains. Because of the complexity, it is hard to give brief examples, but Turner’s and Fauconnier’s ‘The Way We Think’ is full of very illuminating case studies.

But it is also not at all uncommon for metaphor to borrow from a domain we know much less about to elucidate a domain we know a lot about. For example, if I hear, ‘don’t go into that office, the boss is on a warpath’, I understand a lot more about the boss’s behaviour than I do about any warpaths. Here, only the general feeling of ferocity is transferred with none of the possible association of weaponry or military supply lines.

Metaphor is also always partial. It would make no sense to project every aspect of both domains onto one another. But the ability to understand which bits it makes sense to project and which must be left out also requires at least some understanding of both domains. To understand what we mean when we call a piece of software a ‘virus’ we must know enough about computers to know that the infection cannot be transmitted through simple touch.

Metaphor at its most powerful helps us understand both domains better. It also often results in the creation of new understanding of both domains as we strive to find the limits of possible cross-domain mappings. Often, this happens with honest historical explanations of the present. By comparing the Iraq war to Vietnam, we may only choose to transfer the feeling of emotion and loss associated with the former. But we may also choose to explore both in their own right to find the best way in which they project on to one another. And this gives us new understanding of both.

Three uses of metaphor in explanation

There are many ways to classify the uses of metaphors, I’ve outlined some in an early paper. But for the purposes of metaphor in explanation, I’d like to offer three broad types: 1. Metaphor as invitation; 2. Metaphor as instrument; 3. Metaphor as catalyst. I fear that the first type may be most common while only the second two play any real role in building understanding. These three types could also be viewed as forming a sort of process but this is not inherent in the definition.

As we will see, sometimes the same metaphor can serve all three roles, providing a certain thread through the process of learning. But most often, we need new metaphors for each type or stage.

1. Metaphor as invitation

Novice students often come to a new subject with no knowledge and a healthy dose of fear of the unknown. To help them feel more comfortable, teachers like to reach for metaphors relying on the familiar. This gives the learner a chance to grasp onto something while they build up sufficient mental representations of the new domain.

But this use of metaphor usually does not help understanding. It just provides emotional support along the arduous journey towards that understanding. It can also backfire. Teachers often spin up these kinds of metaphors in such a way that they assume an understanding of the unfamiliar. And it is only once students have bootstrapped themselves into some understanding of the subject that the metaphor starts to make any sense to them.

For instance (to use a famous example), we can teach students that the electrical current is like a flow of water. This certainly takes some fear out of the invisible world of electrons. But unless students have at least some prior understanding of electricity, they may ask questions like ‘how do you get the water into the wires?’

This type of metaphor can only be used for a fleeting moment and it must be followed by hard work of accumulating understanding of the new domain on its own terms. Perhaps with the use of more metaphors, this time of the instrumental kind.

2. Metaphor as an instrument

The instrumental use of metaphor for explanation is where real understanding starts to happen. But not all teachers are as good at it. In this case, the metaphor provides a way for the student to grasp the new subject. A lens to see it through, or a mental instrument to manipulate it with. Such metaphors are essential to the learning process. However, they do not rely on the moment of instant insight, which they can sometimes trigger, but rather on continuing exploration of the projection between the two domains. Their usefulness is less in the feeling of illumination than in their availability to be used over and over again.

For instance, electrical engineers may be able to make better judgments about certain properties of electrical circuits when they think of electrons as a flow of water. But in other instances, they may be better off when they think about electrons as lots of tiny balls rubbing against one another, generating heat. This metaphor can come up over and over to help them mentally manipulate the two domains.

Here, as with all metaphors, it is essential that we know when to let go. Or even better, when to switch to a different or even a contradictory metaphor. These instrumental metaphors can be local or global but it is rare that one will be enough.

3. Metaphor as catalyst

In the third use, the metaphor plays the role of a catalyst. Like a powder dissolved into a liquid, it makes a new substance in which both domains are transformed into one unified understanding. This is when the student transforms into a scholar. Making independent judgments, challenging the teacher’s own understanding, and ultimately becoming her own teacher. To work as a catalyst, the metaphor may be very rich and detailed or just a quick sketch resulting in a slight shift of perspective. But it always requires solid knowledge of the target domain.

Let’s continue with our electrical current example. Here, the student comes not only to understand that sometimes electricity behaves like a liquid and sometimes like a collection of particles, they also come to see the complexity of liquids and particles. They start making predictions both ways and ask questions like ‘What if we thought of the flow of water as a collection of particles?’, etc.

Here the metaphor becomes a process without an end. It spurs new mixtures and remixtures as one finds out more about the two (and often more) domains. Unlike with instrumental and invitational metaphors, it is no longer important that the metaphor be apt. It is just important that it is useful for new understandings or the possibilities of these new understandings. Donald Schön called one subtype of these ‘generative metaphor’.

But as with the other types, it is important that these metaphors come with some sort self-destruct mechanism.

What often happens is that these metaphors are taken up by those who presume that they map fully onto the target domain and that no other understanding of the target domain is necessary. I described how this is a problem with Schroedinger’s cat, or Lorenz’s hurricane-triggering butterflies.

What’s even worse, teachers often use these metaphors far too soon. This either confuses students or, worse, it gives them an illusion of understanding that they do not possess.

How NOT to use metaphor to explain something – two case studies

Case study 1: Metaphor gap in data science

My first case study of a bad use of explanation with metaphor is the podcast Data Skeptic. In fact, listening to the most recent episodes prompted me to write this in the first place.

I must preface this by saying that I like the podcast and recommend it to others who want to understand modern data science. It covers important subjects and there is much to learn from it. Its one unfortunate feature, however, are certain episodes when the host, data scientist Kyle Polich, uses his wife, project manager and English major, Linh Da Tran as co-host and tries to explain concepts from abstract computational theory to her. Or rather at her.

This almost invariably fails. Not because Linh Da does not possess the raw intelligence or aptitude to understand these concepts but because Kyle confuses metaphor with explanation and explanation with understanding.

In two recent episodes, he attempted to explain dataskeptic.com/blog/episodes/2019/attention”>attention in neural networks and Case study 2: The explanation illusion at Wired magazine

But Data Skeptic is not the worst example of this type of pseudo-teaching by explanation. Only the most recent in my mind. A possibly much worse example is the Wired magazine series in which one expert supposedly explains a technical concept at 5 levels of difficulty: 5-7-year old, young teen, college student, graduate student, and another expert. These explanations often involve some level of metaphor, but they are mostly pointless. The conceit is that anybody can understand these concepts at “some level”. But the explanations do not equal understanding as is amply demonstrated in the videos. The people being explained to do not usually develop any new understanding. And it is doubtful whether the people watching do either.

Some of these are because the topic just is not appropriate to be explained to a certain audience. A 5 or 13-year old do not need to understand (nor do they have the background to) things like CRISPR or the Conectome. At best, they may learn which discipline they belong to, but that’s just teaching them a new name. No understanding of the phenomena is necessary.

But even when the understanding is well within reach and might have its use, the ‘expert’ fumbles. Thus the great and inventive musician Jacob Collier failed to explain the concept of ‘harmony’ to any of his charges. First, he tried to convince a five year old that harmony is a way of expressing a feeling with music (as opposed to melody). This is not only too abstract, it is also wrong. Both harmony and melody express feelings. But harmony is different notes played on top of one another rather than in sequence as in a melody (the feelings come from the pitch distance between the tones). This is well within the scope of understanding of a 5-year old when accompanied by some examples. No elaborate metaphors are necessary. But Jacob Collier goes into a very abstract explanation concluding with the most pointless question in any teacher’s arsenal: ‘does this make sense?’ to which he gets a an ‘uhuh’ from the child who clearly has no clue.

But explaining anything to 5-year-olds is hard. So does he do better with a teen? No. He still sticks with the metaphor of harmony as adding emotion to a melody. But then he mixes in the idea of harmony being a journey. To illustrate this, he goes from demonstrating a simple major / minor cord distinction to a jazz chord substitution. Which is wonderful and impresses the student but does not illustrate the concept of harmony to her.

No explanation happens at the higher levels either because all of the others (culminating in jazz giant Herbie Hancock) know the key concepts. So Collier just chats with them about harmonization and reharmonization. Which also reveals that that’s what he had in his mind with the 5-year old and the teen – he was just explaining a much more advanced concept under the label of the simple one.

One of the commenters on the video made an astute observation:

“it’s interesting how in the earlier levels it has to do more with theory and as you get higher up the level it goes back to nature and life experience and emotions. It’s almost as if, as the complexity increases, there’s also a level of fundamental basic understanding of nature and how it goes hand in hand at the most complex level” (emusik97531 [DL fixed small typos])

Essentially, as the level of the underlying understanding grows, the simple metaphor of journey, place and feeling have the most impact. At the lower levels, they just hang in there, not doing much of anything. They may feel like an invitation, but they don’t have any way to be used as a tool for understanding.

At the higher levels, Collier also shows that maybe he could be a great teacher to somebody closer to his level of skill and understanding. But it also reveals the pointlessness of an isolated act of explanation with (or without) metaphor if it is not supported by the hard work of making the connections necessary for the metaphor to become a proper instrument or a catalyst.

This is not a particular critique of Jacob Collier who is a great teacher to students at Berklee but rather of the whole set up of the series by Wired. Nobody could succeed in this setting. The concept is either going to be hard at the low levels or too basic at the higher ones.

The inglorious history of metaphorical explanation in education

Collier and Polich, as well as countless others, are in illustrious company of people who overestimate what explanation can do in the process of learning.

Socrates in a famous scene from www.thoughtco.com/slave-boy-experiment-in-platos-meno-2670668″>(‘Meno’) walks a slave boy through a series of questions “proving” that he already knew the answer to how to ‘double’ the area of the square. B F Skinner Emile (because, by his own admission, he found teaching actual students too ill-suited to his temperament). Rousseau took the imaginary Emile on a similarly Socratic journey to create the perfect ‘natural man’. Rousseau’s Emile always immediately gets the point of his metaphors and learns the right lesson as if by magic. He rarely does anything in the way of practice – although he perhaps has more time to assimilate new knowledge than Socrates’ victim.

There is much of Rousseau and Socrates in all teachers. Explanations and metaphors are heady stuff while boring practice such as that Skinner was hoping to replace by his teaching machines is the embodiment of tedium for all involved. But without some sort of practice-like engagement with the subject, no understanding is possible. Educators often leave this for the spaces ‘in-between’ teaching events – invisible to them other than as returned homework assignments. Students who succeed have somehow figured out how to do that unmentioned task of conceptual practice. This then looks like effortless insight to the students who struggle.

How to actually use metaphors for explanation

So, is there a way to avoid the pitfalls we encountered above? As we saw, the first step should be asking oneself whether this is a time for more explanations and if metaphors are the best way of arriving at a useful understanding.

We must also remember that there is no such thing as a perfect explanation or perfect metaphor. Not everybody finds the conceptual work of cognitively decoupling one domain so that it can be projected on another easy to do or even useful. But at some point a metaphor is the only way to go about explaining something.

So when it comes time to construct the metaphor, we must make sure of two things.

First, we have to find the right source domain for the metaphor that can be projected onto the target domain so that the student can achieve useful understanding of some aspect of the target. This happens pretty much through a process of trial and error. Which means, we’re unlikely to happen on the right metaphor on the first try.

Second, we have to make sure we have a good grasp on the possible projections between the two domains. I broadly described the process in my guide to metaphor hacking. We have to decide on what the purpose of the metaphor is and whether successful mappings can be made between the two domains. But we have to keep exploring both domains to see if there are any mappings that would result in a misunderstanding. These then have to be explicitly cut off from the metaphor.

For example, a virus is a good metaphor for a piece of software that ‘infects’ your computer. But we must also specify that this can only happen by executing the software, not by simple exposure of 2 PCs in the same room.

The teacher must know when to abandon a metaphor as much as when to bring one up. Some metaphors are local and others are global. The global metaphors are particularly dangerous because they can lock out possible alternative sources of understanding.

Switching between metaphors is essential. But it also contains a danger. The biggest mistake teachers (including this one) make when students say don’t understand, is to fill the air with more different explanations. Yes, these may be necessary. But first give the student some space and time to integrate this into their current level of understanding.

The teacher also has to make sure that the student already has sufficient mental representations from both domains to be able to make the projections between them catch onto something. A computer virus metaphor is useless if the student knows nothing about viruses but it also does not help, if the student knows nothing about computers.

Particularly when metaphors are used as catalysts, it is important to investigate the source domain as much as the target domain. For instance, if we use the metaphor ‘education is business’, we may want to look at various aspects of the way businesses work to see if there are unexpected dangers in using this metaphor globally. Then, if we decide that schools should run along the same model as New York restaurants, we should ask what is the equivalent of a restaurant going out of business, or a customer having a bad meal. And what happens if we start thinking of education as a dining experience? Etc.

Finally, it is essential that we pay attention to what happens before and after the metaphor. Each student will bring a slightly different understanding of both the source and the target domains. Can we rely on them coming up with the same mappings on their own? And, if we think of the metaphor as an instrument for dealing with a particular concept, we must make sure we teach the students how it works and give them enough time to practice with it before we leave them to their own devices.

There is no perfect procedure for building a metaphor that explains a new concept. And the metaphor is always only a small part of the process of understanding. We must pay attention to the hard work necessary before a metaphor can be used. And we must think about the work required afterward for the metaphor to continue its usefulness.

Good metaphors are often remembered by students and teacher alike for a long time with emotional salience. But even the best metaphor becomes simply a fond memory of a past moment of enlightenment without any understanding if it is not being continually exercised and stretched. It is far too common for people to just remember the source domain with only the vaguest glimpses of the target domain distorted by time.

Ultimately, any metaphor-based explanation can be but a singular event in the continual process of understanding. Metaphors, when used well, can be great instruments for further exploration. But when used poorly, they are but ornaments on an empty box of the vacant mind.

Post script:

Lest there be any doubt. I have not only seen others make the mistakes I mention here. I have made them all myself. Again and again and again. Deepest apologies to my students.

3 burning issues in the study of metaphor

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I’m not sure how ‘burning’ these issues are as such but if they’re not, I’d propose that they deserve to have some kindling or other accelerant thrown on them.

1. What is the interaction between automatic metaphor processing and deliberate metaphor application?

Metaphors have always been an attractive subjects of study. But they have seen an explosionof interest since ‘Metaphors we live by’ by Lakoff and Johnson. In an almost Freudian turn, these previously seemingly superfluous baubles of language and mind, became central to how we think and speak. All of a sudden, it appeared that metaphors reveal something deeper about our mind that would otherwise remain hidden from view.

But our ability to construct and deconstruct metaphors was mostly left unexamined. But this happens ‘literally’ all the time. People test the limits of ‘metaphor’ through all kinds of dicoursive patterns. From, saying things like ‘X is more like Y’ to ‘X is actually Y’ or even ‘X is like Y because’.

How does this interact with the automatic, instantaneous and unconscious processing of language. (Let’s not forget that this is more common)

2. What is the relationship between the cognitive (conceptual) and textual metaphor?

Another way to pose this question is: What happens in text and cognition in between all the metaphors? Many approaches to the study of metaphor only focus on the metaphors they see. They seem to ignore all the text and thought in between the metaphorical. But, often, that is most of goes on.

With a bit of effort, metaphors can be seen everywhere but they are not the same kind of thing. ‘Time is money’, ‘stop wasting my time’, and ‘we spent some time together’ are all metaphorical and relying on the same conceptual metaphor of TIME IS A SOMETHING THAT CAN BE EXCHANGED. But they are clearly not doing the same job of work for the speaker and will be interpreted very differently by the listener.

But there’s even more at stake. Imagine a sentence like ‘Stop wasting my time. I could have been weeding my garden spending time with my children instead of listening to you.’ Obviously, the ‘wasting time’ plays a different role than in a sentence ‘Stop wasting my time. My time is money and when you waste my time, you waste my money.’ The coceptual underpinnings are the same, but way they can be marshalled into meaning is different.

Metaphor analysts are only too happy to ignore the context – which could often be most of the text. I propose that we need a better model for accounting for metaphor in use.

3. What are the different processes used to process figurative language

There are 2 broad schools of the psychology of metaphor. They are represented by the work of Sam Glucksberg and Raymond Gibbs. The difference between them can be summarised as ‘metaphor as polysemy’ vs ‘metaphor as cognition’. Metaphor, according to the first, is only a kind of additional meaning, words or phrases have. While the second approach sees it as a deep interconnected underpinning of our language and thought.

Personally, I’m much closer to the cognitive approach but it’s hard to deny that the experimental evidence is all over the place. The more I study metaphor, the more I’m convinced that we need a unified theory of metaphor processing that takes both approaches into account. But I don’t pretend I have a very clear idea of where to even start.

I think such a theory would also have to account for differences in how inviduals process metaphors. There are figurative language pathologies (e.g. gaps in ability to process metaphor is associated with autism). But clearly, there are also gradations in how well individuals can process metaphor.

Any one individual is also going to vary over time and specific instances in how much they are able  and/or willing to consider something to be metaphorical. Let’s take the example of ‘education is business’. Some people may not consider this to be a metaphor and will consider it a straightforward descriptive statement along the lines of ‘dolphins are mammals’. Others will treat it more or less propositionally but will dispute it on the grounds that ‘education is education’, and therefore clearly not business. But those same people may pursue some of the metaphorical mappings to bolster their arguments. E.g. ‘Education is business and therefore, teachers need to be more productive.’ or ‘Education is not business because schools cannot go bankcrupt’.

Bonus issue: What are the cognitive foundations shared by metaphor with the rest of language?

This is not really a burning issue for metaphor studies so much as it is one for linguistics. Specifically semantics and pragmatics but also syntax and lexicography.

If we think of metaphor as conceptual domain (frame) mapping, we find that this is fundamental to all of language. Our understanding of attributes and predicates relies on the same ability to project between 2 domains as does understanding metaphor. (Although, there seems to be some additional processing burden on novel metaphors).

Even seemingly simple predicates such as ‘is white’ or ‘is food’ require a projection between domains.

Compare:

  1. Our car is white.
  2. Milk chocolate is white.
  3. His hair is white.

Our ability to understand 1 – 3 requires that we map the domain of the ‘subject’ on to the domain of the ‘is white’ predicate. Chocolate is white through and through whereas cars are only white in certain parts (usually not tires). Hair, on the other hand, is white in different ways. And in fact, ‘is white’ can never be fully informative when it comes to hair because there are too many models. In fact, it is even possible to have opposite attributes mean the same thing. ‘Nazi holocaust’ and ‘Jewish holocaust’ are both use to label the same event (with similar frequency) and yet it is clear that they refer to one event. But this ‘clarity of meaning’ depends on projections between various domains. Some of these include ‘encyclopedic knowledge’. For instance, ‘Hungarian holocaust’ does not possess such clarity outside of specialist circles.

It appears that understanding simple predicates relies on the same processes as understanding metaphor does. What makes metaphor special then? Do we perhaps need to return to a more traditional view of metaphor as a rhetorical device but change the way we think about language?

That is what I’ve been doing in my thinking about language and metaphor but most linguistic theories treat these as unremarkable phenomena. This leads them to ignore some pretty fundamental things about language.

Anthropologists’ metaphorical shenanigans: Or how (not) to research metaphor

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Over on the excellent ‘Genealogy of Religion’, Cris Campbell waved a friendly red rag in front of my eyes to make me incensed over exaggerated claims (some) anthropologists make about metaphors. I had expressed some doubts in previous comments but felt that perhaps this particular one deserves its own post.

The book Cris refers to is a collection of essays  America in 1492: The World of the Indian Peoples Before the Arrival of Columbus (1991, ed. Alvin Josephy) which also contains an essay by Joel Sherzer called “A Richness of Voices”.  I don’t have the book but I looked up a few quotes on metaphor from the book.

The introduction summarizes the conclusion thus:

“Metaphors about the relations of people to animals and natural forces were essential to the adaptive strategies of people who lived by hunting.” (p. 26)

This is an example what Sherzer has to say about metaphor:

“Another important feature of native vocabularies was the metaphor – the use of words or groups of words that related to one realm of meaning to another. To students they provide a window into American Indian philosophies. … The relationship between the root and the derived form was often metaphorical.” (p. 256)

The first part of both statements is true but the second part does not follow. That is just bad bad scholarship. I’m not a big Popperian but if you want to make claims about language you have to postulate some hypotheses and try really really really hard to disprove them. Why? Because there are empirical aspects to the questions that can have empirical support. Instead the hypotheses are implied and no attempt is made to see if they work. So this is what I suggest are Sherzer’s implicit hypotheses that should be made explicit and tested:

  1. American Indian languages use metaphors for essential parts of their understanding of the world. (Corollary: If we understand the metaphors, we can understand the worldview of the speakers of those languages.)
  2. American Indian language use of metaphors was necessary to their survival because of their hunter-gatherer lifestyles.
  3. American Indian languages use metaphor than the SAE (Standard Average European) languages.

Re 1: This is demonstrably true. It is true of all languages so it is not surprising here. However, exactly how central this metaphorical reasoning is and how it works cognitively is an open question. I addressed some of this in my review of Verena Haser’s book.

As to the corollary, I’ve mentioned this time and time again. There is no straightforward link between metaphor and worldview. War on poverty, war on drugs, war on terror all draw on different aspects of war. As does Salvation Army, Peace Corps and the Marine Corps. You can’t say that Salvation Army subscribes to the same level of violence than a ‘real’ Army. The same goes for metaphors like ‘modern Crusades’ or the various notions of ‘Jihad’. Metaphor works exactly because it does not commit us to a particular course of action.

That’s not to say that the use of metaphor can never be revealing of underlying conceptualizations. For instance, calling something rebellion vs. calling it a ‘civil war’ imposes a certain order on the configuration of participants and reveals the speaker’s assumptions. But calling one ‘my rock’ does not reveal any cultural preoccupation with rocks. The latter (I propose) is much more common than the former.

Re 2: I think this is demonstrably false. From my (albeit incomplete) reading of the literature, most of the time metaphors just got in the way of hunting. Thinking of the ‘Bear’ as the father to whom you have to ritually apologise before killing him seems a bit excessive. Over metaphorisation of plants and animals has also led to their over or under exploitation. E.g. the Nuer not eating birds and foregoing an important source of nutricion or the Hawains hunting rare birds to extinction for their plumes. Sure, metaphors were essential to the construction of folk taxonomies but that is equally true of Western ‘scientific’ taxonomies which map into notions of descent, progress and containment. (PS: I’ve been working on a post called ‘Taxonomies are metaphors where I elaborate on this).

Re 3: This is just out and out nonsense. The example given are stuff like bark of the tree being called ‘skin’ and spacial prepositions like ‘on top of’ or ‘behind’ being derived from body parts. The author obviously did not bother to consult an English etymological dictionary where he could discover that ‘top’ comes from ‘tuft’ as in ‘tuft of hair’ (or is at the very least connected). And of course the connection of ‘behind’ to body part (albeit in the other direction) should be pretty obvious to anyone. Anyway, body part metaphors are all over all languages in all sorts similar but inconsistent ways: mountains have feet (but not heads), human groups have heads (but not feed), trees have trunks (but not arms), a leader may have someone as their right arm (but not their left foot). And ‘custard has skin’ in English (chew on that). In short, unless the author can show even a hint of a quantitative tendency, it’s clear that American Indian languages are just as metaphorical as any other languages.

Sherzer comes to this conclusion:

“Metaphorical language pervaded the verbal art of the Americas in 1492, in part because of the closeness Native American had always felt to the natural world around them and their social, cultural, aesthetic, and personal identification with it and in part because of their faith in the immediacy of a spirit world whose presence could be manifest in discourse.”

But that displays fundamental misunderstanding of how metaphor works in language. Faith in immediacy has no link to the use of metaphors (or at the very least Sherzer did not demonstrate any link because he confused lyricism with scholarship). Sure, metaphors based on the natural world might indicate ‘closeness to the natural world around’ but that’s just as much of a discovery as saying that people who live in an area with lots of oaks have a word that means ‘oak’. The opposite would be surprising. The problem is that if you analyzed English without preconceptions about the culture of its speakers you would find as much of a closeness to the natural world (e.g a person can be ‘a force of nature’, ‘eyes like a hawk’, ‘dirty as a pig’, ‘wily as a fox’, ‘slow as a snail’, ‘beautiful as a flower’, ‘sturdy as a tree’, etc.).

While this seems deep, it’s actually meaningless.

“The metaphorical and symbolic bent of Mesoamerica was reflected in the grammars, vocabularies, and verbal art of the region. (p. 272)

Mesoamerica had no ‘symbolic bent’. Humans have a symbolic bent, just like they have spleens, guts and little toes.  So let’s stop being all gushy about it and study things that are worth a note.

PS: This just underscores my comments on an earlier post of Cris’ where I took this quote to task:

“Nahuatl was and is a language rich in metaphor, and the Mexica took delight in exploring veiled resemblances…” This is complete and utter nonsense. Language is rich in metaphor and all cultures explore veiled resemblances. That’s just how language works. All I can surmise is that the author did not learn the language very well and therefore was translating some idioms literally. It happens. Or she’s just mindlessly spouting a bullshit trope people trot out when they need to support some mystical theory about a people.

And the conclusion!? “In a differently conceptualized world concepts are differently distributed. If we want to know the metaphors our subjects lived by, we need first to know how the language scanned actuality. Linguistic messages in foreign (or in familiar) tongues require not only decoding, but interpretation.” Translated from bullshit to normal speak: “When you translate things from a foreign language, you need to pay attention to context.” Nahuatl is no different to Spanish in this. In fact, the same applies to British and American English.

Finally, this metaphor mania is not unique to anthropologists. I’ve seen this in philosophy, education studies, etc. Metaphors are seductive… Can’t live without them…

Image by moune.drah CC BY NC SA

What is not a metaphor: Modelling the world through language, thought, science, or action

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The role of metaphor in science debate (Background)

Recently, the LSE podcast an interesting panel on the subject of “Metaphors and Science”. It featured three speakers talking about the interface between metaphor and various ‘scientific’ disciplines (economics, physics and surgery). Unlike many such occasions, all speakers were actually very knowledgeable and thoughtful on the subject.

In particular, I liked Felicity Mellor and Richard Bronk who adopted the same perspective that underlies this blog and which I most recently articulated in writing about obliging metaphors. Felicity Mellor put it especially eloquently when she said:

“Metaphor allows us to speak the truth by saying something that is wrong. That means it can be creatively liberating but it can also be surreptitiously coercive.”

This dual nature of coerciveness and liberation was echoed throughout the discussion by all three speakers. But they also shared the view of ubiquity of metaphor which is what this post is about.

What is not a metaphor? The question!

The moderator of the discussion was much more stereotypically ambivalent about such expansive attitude toward metaphor and challenged the speakers with the question of ‘what is the opposite of metaphor’ or ‘what is not a metaphor’. He elicited suggestions from the audience, who came up with this list:

model, diagram, definition, truths, math, experience, facts, logic, the object, denotation

The interesting thing is that most of the items on this list are in fact metaphorical in nature. Most certainly models, diagrams and definitions (more on these in future posts). But mathematics and logic are also deeply metaphorical (both in their application but also internally; e.g. the whole logico mathematical concept of proof is profoundly metaphorical).

Things get a bit more problematic with things like truth, fact, denotation and the object. All of those seem to be pointing at something that is intuitively unmetaphorical. But it doesn’t take a lot of effort to see that ‘something metaphorical’ is going on there as well. When we assign a label (denotation), for instance, ‘chair’ or ‘coast’ or ‘truth’ we automatically trigger an entire cognitive armoury for dealing with things that exist and these things have certain properties. But it is clear that ‘chair’, ‘coast’ and ‘metaphor’ are not the same kind of thing at all. Yet, we can start treating them the same way because they are both labels. So we start asking for the location, shape or definition of metaphor, just because we assigned it a label in the same way we can ask for the same thing about a chair or a coast. We want to take a measure of it, but this is much easier with a chair than with a coast (thus the famous fractal puzzle about the length of the coast of Britain). But chairs are not particularly easy to nail down (metaphorically, of course) either, as I discussed in my post on clichés and metaphors.

Brute facts of tiny ontology

So what is the thing that is not a metaphor? Both Bronk and Mellor suggested the “brute fact”. A position George Lakoff called basic realism and I’ve recently come to think of as tiny ontology. The idea, as expressed by Mellor and Bronk in this discussion, is that there’s a real world out there which impinges upon our bodily existence but with which we can only interact through the lens of our cognition which is profoundly metaphorical.

But ultimately, this does not give us a very useful answer. Either everything is a metaphor, so we might as well stop talking about it, or there is something that is not a metaphor. In which case, let’s have a look. Tiny ontology does not give us the solution because we can only access it through the filter of our cognition (which does not mean consciously or through some wilful interpretation). So the real question is, are there some aspects of our cognition that are not metaphorical?

Metaphor as model (or What is metaphor)

The solution lies in the revelation hinted at above that labels are in themselves metaphors. The act of labelling is metaphorical, or rather, it triggers the domain of objects. What do I mean by that? Well, first let’s have a look at how metaphor actually works. I find it interesting that nobody during the entire discussion tried to raise that question other than the usual ‘using something to talk about something else’. Here’s my potted summary of how metaphor works (see more details in the About section).

Metaphor is a process of projecting one conceptual domain onto another. All of our cognition involves this process of conceptual integration (or blending). This integration is fluid, fuzzy and partial. In language, this domain mapping is revealed through the process of deixis, attribution, predication, definition, comparison, etc. Sometimes it is made explicit by figurative language. Figurative language spans the scale of overt to covert. Figurative language has a conceptual, communicative and textual dimension (see my classification of metaphor use). In cognition, this process of conceptual integration is involved in identification, discrimination, manipulation. All of these can be more or less overtly analogical.

So all of this is just a long way of saying, that metaphor is a metaphor for a complicated process which is largely unconscious but not uncommonly conscious. In fact, in my research, I no longer use the term ‘metaphor’ because it misleads more than it helps. There’s simply too much baggage from what is just overt textual manifestation of metaphor – the sort of ‘common sense’ understanding of metaphor. However, this common sense ordinary understanding of ‘metaphor’ makes using the word a useful shortcut in communication with people who don’t have much of a background in this thought. But when we think about the issue more deeply, it becomes a hindrance because of all the different types of uses of metaphor I described here (a replay of the dual liberating and coercive nature of metaphor mentioned above – we don’t get escape our cognition just because we’re talking about metaphors).

In my work, I use the term frame, which is just a label for a sort of conceptual model (originally suggested by Lakoff as Idealized Cognitive Model). But I think in this context the term ‘model’ is a bit more revealing about what is going on.

So we can say that every time, we engage conceptually with our experience, we are engaging in an act of modelling (or framing). Even when I call something ‘true’, I am applying a certain model (frame) that will engage certain heuristics (e.g. asking for confirmation, evidence). Equally, if I say something like ‘education is business’, I am applying a certain model that will allow me to talk about things like achieving economies of scale or meeting consumer demand but will make it much harder to talk about ethics and personal growth. That doesn’t mean that I cannot apply more than one model, a combination of models or build new models from old ones. (Computer virus is a famous example, but natural law is another one. Again more on this in later posts.)

Action as an example of modelling

The question was asked during the discussion by an audience member, whether I can experience the world directly (not mediated by metaphoric cognition). The answer is yes, but even this kind of experience involves modelling. When I walk along a path, I automatically turn to avoid objects – therefore I’m modelling their solid and interactive nature. Even when I’m lying still, free of all thought and just letting the warmth of the shining sun wash over me, I’m still applying a model of my position in the world in a particular way. That is, my body is not activating my ears to hear the sun rays, nor is it perceiving the bacteria going about their business in my stomach. A snake, polar bear or a fish would all model that situation in a different way.

This may seem like unnecessary extension of the notion of a model. (But it echos the position of the third speaker Roger Kneebone who was talking about metaphor as part of the practice of surgery.) It is not particularly crucial to our understanding of metaphor, but I think it’s important to divert us from a certain kind of perceptual mysticism in which many people unhappy with the limitations of their cognitive models engage. The point is that not all of our existence is necessarily conceptual but all of it models our interaction with the world and switches between different models as appropriate. E.g. my body applies different models of the world when I’m stepping down from a step on solid ground or stepping into a pool of water.

The languages of metaphor: Or how a metaphor do

I am aware that this is all very dense and requires a lot more elaboration (well, that’s why I’m writing a blog, after all). But I’d like to conclude with a warning that the language used for talking about metaphor brings with it certain models of thinking about the world which can be very confusing if we don’t let go of them in time. Just the fact that we’re using words is a problem. When words are isolated (for instance, in a dictionary or at the end of the phrase ‘What is a…’) it only seems natural that they should have a definition. We have a word “metaphor” and it would seem that it needs to have some clear meaning. The kind of thing we’re used to seeing on the right-hand side of dictionaries. But insisting that dictionary-like definition is what must be at the end of the journey is to misunderstand what we’ve seen along the way.

There are many contexts in which the construction “metaphor is…” is not only helpful but also necessary. For example when clarifying one’s use: “In this blog, what I mean by metaphor is much broader than what traditional students of figurative language meant by it.” But in the context of trying to get at what’s going on in the space that we intuitively describe as metaphorical, we should almost be looking for something along to the lines of “metaphor does” or “metaphors feels like”. Or perhaps refrain from the construction “metaphor verb” altogether and just admit that we’re operating in a kind of metaphor-tasting soup. We can get at the meaning/definition by disciplined exploration and conversation.

In conclusion, metaphor is a very useful model when thinking about cognition, but it soon fails us, so we can replace it with more complex models, like that of a model. We are then left with the rather unsatisfactory notion of a metaphor of metaphor or a model of model. The sort of dissatisfaction that lead Derrida and his like to the heights of obscurity. I think we can probably just about avoid deconstructionist obscurantism but only if we adopt one of its most powerful tools, the fleeting sidelong glance (itself a metaphor/model). Just like the Necker cube, this life on the edge of metaphor is constantly shifting before our eyes. Never quite available to us perceptually all at once but readily apprehended by us in its totality. At once opaque and so so crystal clear. Rejoice all you parents of freshly screaming thoughts. It’s a metaphor!
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Storms in all Teacups: The Power and Inequality in the Battle for Science Universality

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The great blog Genealogy of Religion posted this video with a somewhat approving commentary:

The video started off with panache and promised some entertainment, however, I found myself increasingly annoyed as the video continued. The problem is that this is an exchange of cliches that pretends to be a fight of truth against ignorance. Sure, Storm doesn’t put forward a very coherent argument for her position, but neither does Minchin. His description of science vs. faith is laughable (being in awe at the size of the universe, my foot) and nowhere does he display any nuance nor, frankly, any evidence that he is doing anything other than parroting what he’s heard on some TV interview with Dawkins. I have much more sympathy with the Storms of this world than these self-styled defenders of science whose only credentials are that they can remember a bit of high school physics or chemistry and have read an article by some neo-atheist in Wired. What’s worse, it’s would be rationalists like him who do what passes for science reporting in major newspapers or on the BBC.

But most of all, I find it distasteful that he chose a young woman as his antagonist. If he wished to take on the ‘antiscience’ establishment, there are so many much better figures to target for ridicule. Why not take on the pseudo spiritualists in the mainstream media with their ecumenical conciliatory garbage. How about taking on tabloids like Nature or Science that publish unreliable preliminary probes as massive breakthroughs. How about universities that put out press releases distorting partial findings. Why not take on economists who count things that it makes no sense to count just to make things seem scientific. Or, if he really has nothing better to do, let him lay into some super rich creationist pastor. But no, none of these captured his imagination, instead he chose to focus his keen intellect and deep erudition on a stereotype of a young woman who’s trying to figure out a way to be taken seriously in a world filled with pompous frauds like Minchin.

The blog post commenting on the video sparked a debate about the limits of knowledge (Note: This is a modified version of my own comment). But while there’s a debate to be had about the limits of knowledge (what this blog is about),  this is not the occasion. There is no need to adjudicate about which of these two is more ‘on to something’. They’re not touching on anything of epistemological interest, they’re just playing a game of social positioning in the vicinity of interesting issues. But in this game, people like Michin have been given a lot more chips to play with than people like Storm. It’s his follies and prejudices and not hers that are given a fair hearing. So I’d rather spend a few vacuous moments in her company than endorse his mindless ranting.

And as for ridiculing people for stupidity or shallow thinking, I’m more than happy to take part. But I want to have a look at those with power and prestige, because they just as often as Storms act just as silly and irrationally the moment they step out of their areas of expertise. I see this all the time in language, culture and history (where I know enough about to judge the level of insight). Here’s the most recent one that caught my eye:

It comes from a side note in a post about evolutionary foundations of violence by a self-proclaimed scientist (the implied hero in Minchin’s rant):

 It is said that the Bedouin have nearly 100 different words for camels, distinguishing between those that are calm, energetic, aggressive, smooth-gaited, or rough, etc. Although we carefully identify a multitude of wars — the Hundred Years War, the Thirty Years War, the American Civil War, the Vietnam War, and so forth — we don’t have a plural form for peace.

Well, this paragon of reason could be forgiven for not knowing what sort of non-sense this ‘100 words for’ cliche is. The Language Log has spilled enough bits on why this and other snowclones are silly. But the second part of the argument is just stupid. And it is a typical scientist blundering about the world as if the rules of evidence didn’t apply to him outside the lab and as if data not in a spreadsheet did not require a second thought. As if being a PhD in evolutionary theory meant everything else he says about humans must be taken seriously. But how can such a moronic statement be taken as anything but feeble twaddle to be laughed at and belittled? How much more cumulatively harmful are moments like these (and they are all over the place) than the socializing efforts of people like Storm from the video?

So, I should probably explain why this is so brainless. First, we don’t have a multitude of words war  (just like the Bedouin don’t have 100 or even 1 dozen for a camel). We just have the one and we have a lot of adjectives with which we can modify its meaning. And if we want to look for some that are at least equivalent to possible camel attributes, we won’t choose names of famous wars but rather things like civil war, total war, cold war, holy war, global war, naval war, nuclear war, etc. I’m sure West Point or even Wikipedia has much to say about a possible classification. And of course,  all of this applies to peace in exactly the same way. There are ‘peaces’ with names like Peace of Westphalia, Arab-Israeli Peace, etc. with just as many attributive pairs like international peace, lasting peace, regional peace, global peace, durable peace, stable peace, great peace, etc.  I went to a corpus to get some examples but that this must be the case was obvious and a simple Google search would give enough examples to confirm a normal language speaker’s  intuition. But this ‘scientist’ had a point to make and because he’s spent twenty years doing research in evolution of violence, he must surely be right about everything on the subject.

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Now, I’m sure this guy is not an idiot. He’s obviously capable of analysis and presenting a coherent argument. But there’s an area that he chose to address about which he is about as qualified to make pronouncements as Storm and Minchin are about the philosophy of science. And what he said there is stupid and he should be embarrassed for having said it. Should he be ridiculed and humiliated for it the way I did here? No. He made the sort of mistake everyone makes from high school students to Nobel laureates. He thought he knew something and didn’t bother to examine his knowledge. Or he did try to examine it but  didn’t have the right tools to do it. Fine. But he’s a scientist (and a man not subject to stereotypes about women) so we give him and too many like him a pass. But Storm, a woman who like so many of her generation uses star signs to talk about relationships and is uncomfortable with the grasping maw of classifying science chomping on the very essence of her being, she is fair game?

It’s this inequality that makes me angry. We afford one type of shallowness the veneer respectability and rake another one over the coals of ridicule and opprobrium. Not on this blog!

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UPDATE: I was just listening to this interview with a philosopher and historian of science about why there was so much hate coming from scientists towards the Gaia hypothesis and his summation, it seems to me, fits right in with what this post is about. He says: “When scientists feel insecure and threatened, they turn nasty.” And it doesn’t take a lot of study of the history and sociology of science to find ample examples of this. The ‘science wars’, the ‘linguistics wars’, the neo-Darwinst thought purism, the list just goes on. The world view of scientism is totalising and has to deal with exactly the same issues as other totalising views such as monotheistic religions with constitutive ontological views or socio-economic utopianisms (e.g. neo-liberalism or Marxism).

And one of those issues is how do you afford respect to or even just maintain conversation with people who challenge your ideological totalitarianism – or in other words, people who are willfully and dangerously “wrong”. You can take the Minchin approach of suffering in silence at parties and occasionally venting your frustration at innocent passerbys, but that can lead to outbreaks group hysteria as we saw with the Sokal hoax or one of the many moral panic campaigns.

Or you can take the more difficult journey of giving up some of your claims on totality and engaging with even those most threatening to to you as human beings; the way Feyerabend did or Gould sometimes tried to do. This does not mean patiently proselytizing in the style of evangelical missionaries but more of an ecumenical approach of meeting together without denying who you are. This will inevitably involve moments where irreconcilable differences will lead to a stand on principles (cf. Is multi-culturalism bad for women?) but even in those cases an effort at understanding can benefit both sides as with the question of vaccination described in this interview. At all stages, there will be temptation at “understanding” the other person by reducing them to our own framework of humanity. Psychologizing a religious person as an unsophisticate dealing with feelings of awe in the face of incomprehensible nature or pitying the atheist for not being able to feel the love of God and reach salvation. There is no solution. No utopia of perfect harmony and understanding. No vision of lions and lambs living in peace. But acknowledging our differences and slowing down our outrage can perhaps make us into the better versions of us and help us stop wasting time trying to reclaim other people’s stereotypes.

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UPDATE 2: I am aware of the paradox between the introduction and the conclusion of the previous update. Bonus points for spotting it. I actually hold a slightly more nuanced view than the first paragraph would imply but that is a topic for another blog post.

Do we need a gaming literacy: Literacy metaphor hack

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I am a gaming semi-literate!

I was listening to the discussion of the latest BioShock game on the latest TWiT podcast when I realized that I am in fact game illiterate. I am hearing these stories and descriptions of experiences but I know I can’t access them directly without a major investment in knowledge and skill acquisition. So, this is what people with no or limited literacy must feel like in highly literacy-dependent environments. I really want to access the stories in the way they are told by the game. But I know I can’t. I will stumble, be discouraged, not have a very good time before I can have a good time. I will be a struggling gamer, in the same way that there are struggling readers.

Note: When I say game, I mean mostly a non-casual computer game such as BioShock or War of Worldcraft or SimCity.

What would a game literacy entail?

What would I need to learn in order to access gaming? Literacy is composed of a multiplicity of knowledge areas and skills. I already have some of these but not enough. Roughly, I will need to get at the following:

  • Underlying cognitive skills (For reading: transforming the sight of letters into sounds or corresponding mental representations. For gaming: transforming desired effects on screen into actions on a controller)
  • Complex perceptual and productive fluency (Ability to employ the cognitive skills automatically in response to changing stimuli in multiple contexts).
  • Context-based or task-based strategies (Ability to direct the underlying skills towards solving particular problems in particular contexts. For reading: Skim text, or look things up in the index, or skip acknowledgements, discover the type of text, or adopt reading speed appropriate to type of text, etc. For gaming Discover the type of game, or gather appropriate achievements, or find hidden bonuses, etc.)
  • Metacognitive skills and strategies (Learn the terminology and concepts necessary for further learning and to achieve the appropopriate aims using stratgies.)
  • Socialization skills and strategies (Learn to use the skills and knowledge to make connections with other people and exploit those connections to acquire further skill, knowledge as well as social capital derriving from those)

Is literacy a suitable metaphor for gaming? Matches and mismatches!

With any metaphor it is worth to explore the mapping to see if there are sufficient similarities. In this case, I’ll look at the following areas for matches and mismatches:

  • Skill
  • Mode
  • Status
  • Socialization
  • Content
  • Purpose

Skill

Both reading/writing (I will continue to use reading for both unless I need to stress the difference) and gaming require skill that can become automatic and that takes time to acquire. People can be both “better” and “worse” at gaming and reading.

But reading is a more universal skill (although not as universal as most people think) whereas gaming skills are more genre based.

The skill at gaming can be more easily measured by game achievement. Quality of reading measures are a bit more tenuous because speed, fluency and accuracy are all contextual measures. However, even game achievement is a bit more relative, such as in recommendations to play at normal or easy to experience the game.

In this gaming is more like reading than for instance, listening to music or watching a skill which do not require any overt acquisition of skill. See Dara O’Briain’s funny bit on the differences between gaming and reading. Of course, when he says “you cannot be bad at watching a film”, we could quibble that much preparation is required for watching some films, but such training does not involve the development of underlying cognitive skills (assuming the same cultural and linguistic environment). Things are a bit more complex for some special kind of listening to music. Nevertheless people do talk about “media literacy”.

Mode

Reading is mostly a uni-modal experience. It is possible to read out loud or to read while listening but ultimately reading is its own mode. Reading has an equivalent in writing that though not a mirror image skill, requires relatively the same skill.

Gaming is a profoundly multimodal experience combining vision, sound, movement (and often reading, as well). There are even efforts to involve smell. Gaming does not have a clear expressive counterpart. The obvious expressive equivalent to writing would be game design but that clearly requires a different level of skill. However, gaming allows complex levels of self-expression within the process of game play which does not have an equivalent in reading but is not completely dissimilar to creative writing (like fanfiction).

Status

Reading is a neutral to high status activity. The act itself is neutral but status can derrive from content. Writing (expressive rather than utilitarian) is a high status activity.

Gaming is a low status to neutral activity. No loss of status derives from inability to game to not gaming in a way that is true of reading. Some games have less questionable status and many games are played by people who derive high status from outside of gaming. There are emerging status sanction systems around gaming but none have penetrated outside gaming, yet.

Socialization

Reading and writing are significant drivers of wider socialization. They are necessary to perform basic social functions and often represent gateways into important social contexts.

Gaming is only required to socialize in gaming groups. However, this socialization may become more highly desirable over time.

Content

Writing is used to encode a wide variety of content – from shopping lists to neuclear plant manuals to fiction.

Games on the other hand, encode a much more narrower range of content. Primarily narrative and primarily finctional. Although more non-narrative and non-fictional games may exist. There are also expository games but so far, none that would afford easy storage of non-game information without using writing.

Purpose

Reading and writing are very general purpose activities.

Gaming on the other hand has a limited range of purposes: enjoyment, learning, socialization with friends, achieving status in a wider community. You won’t see a bus stop with a game instead of a timetable (although some of these require puzzle solving skills to decipher).

Why may game literacy be important?

As we saw, there are many differences between gaming and reading and writing. Nevertheless, they are similar enough that the metaphor of ‘game literacy’ makes sense provided we see its limitations.

Why is it important? There will be a growing generational and populational divide of gamers and non-gamers. At the moment this is not very important in terms of opportunities and status but it could easily change within a generation.

Not being able to play a game may exclude people from social groups in the same way that not-playing golf or not engaging in some other locally sanctioned pursuit does (e.g. World of Warcraft).

But most importantly, as new generations of game creators explore the expressive boundaries of games (new narratives, new ways of story telling), not being able to play games may result in significant social exclusion. In the same way that a quick summary of what’s in a novel is inferior to reading the novel, films based on games will be pale imitations of playing the games.

I can easily imagine a future where the major narratives of the day will be expressed in games. In the same way that TV serials have supplanted novels as the primary medium of sharing crucial societal narratives, games can take over in the future. The inner life novel took about 150 years to mature and reigned supreme for about as long while drama and film functioned as its accompaniment. The TV serial is now solidifying its position and is about where the novel was in the 1850s. Gaming may take another couple of decades to get to a stage where it is ready as a format to take over. And maybe nothing like that will happen. But if I had a child, I’d certainly encourage them to play computer games as part of ensuring a more secure future.

Framing and constructions as a bridge between cognition and culture: Two Abstracts for Cognitive Futures

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I just found out that both abstracts I submitted to the Cognitive Futures of the Humanities Conference were accepted. I was really only expecting one to get through but I’m looking forward to talking about the ideas in both.

The first first talk has foundations in a paper I wrote almost 5 years ago now about the nature of evidence for discourse. But the idea is pretty much central to all my thinking on the subject of culture and cognition. The challenge as I see it is to come up with a cognitively realistic but not a cognitively reductionist account of culture. And the problem I see is that often the learning only goes one way. The people studying culture are supposed to be learning about the results of research on cognition.

Frames, scripts, scenarios, models, spaces and other animals: Bridging conceptual divides between the cognitive, social and computational

While the cognitive turn has a definite potential to revolutionize the humanities and social sciences, it will not be successful if it tries to reduce the fields investigated by the humanities to merely cognitive or by extension neural concepts. Its greatest potential is in showing continuities between the mind and its expression through social artefacts including social structures, art, conversation, etc. The social sciences and humanities have not waited on the sidelines and have developed a conceptual framework to apprehend the complex phenomena that underlie social interactions. This paper will argue that in order to have a meaningful impact, cognitive sciences, including linguistics, will have to find points of conceptual integration with the humanities rather than simply provide a new descriptive apparatus.

It is the contention of this paper that this can be best done through the concept of frame. It seems that most disciplines dealing with the human mind have (more or less independently) developed a similar notion dealing with the complexities of conceptualization variously referred to as frame, script, cognitive model or one of the as many as 14 terms that can be found across the many disciplines that use it.  This paper will present the different terms and identify commonalities and differences between them. On this, it will propose several practical ways in which cognitive sciences can influence humanities and also derive meaningful benefit from this relationship. I will draw on examples from historical policy analysis, literary criticism and educational discourse.

See the presentation on Slideshare.

The second paper is a bit more conceptually adventurous and testing the ideas put forth in the first one. I’m going to try to explore a metaphor for the merging of cultural studies with linguistic studies. This was done before with structuralism and ended more or less badly. For me, it ended when I read the Lynx by Lévi-Strauss and realized how empty it was of any real meaning. But I think structuralism ended badly in linguistics, as well. We can’t really understand how very basic things work in language unless we can involve culture. So even though, I come at this from the side of linguistics, I’m coming at it from the perspective of linguistics that has already been informed by the study of culture.

If Lévi-Strauss had met Langacker: Towards a constructional approach to the patterns of culture

Construction/cognitive grammar (Langacker, Lakoff, Croft, Verhagen, Goldberg) has broken the strict separation between the lexical and grammatical linguistic units that has defined linguistics for most of the last century. By treating all linguistic units as meaningful, albeit on a scale of schematicity, it has made it possible to treat linguistic knowledge as simply a part of human knowledge rather than as a separate module in the cognitive system. Central to this effort is the notion of language of as an organised inventory of symbolic units that interact through the process of conceptual integration.

This paper will propose a new view of ‘culture’ as an inventory of construction-like patterns that have linguistic, as well, as interactional content. I will argue that using construction grammar as an analogy allows for the requisite richness and can avoid the pitfalls of structuralism. One of the most fundamental contributions of this approach is the understanding that cultural patterns, like constructions, are pairings of meaning and form and that they are organised in a hierarchically structured inventory. For instance, we cannot properly understand the various expressions of politeness without thinking of them as systematically linked units in an inventory available to members of a given culture in the same as syntactic and morphological relationships. As such, we can understand culture as learnable and transmittable in the same way that language is but without reducing its variability and richness as structuralist anthropology once did.

In the same way that Jakobson’s work on structuralism across the spectrum of linguistic diversity inspired Lévi-Strauss and a whole generation of anthropological theorists, it is now time to bring the exciting advances made within cognitive/construction grammar enriched with blending theory back to the study of culture.

See the presentation on SlideShare.

Cliches, information and metaphors: Overcoming prejudice with metahor hacking and getting it back again

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Professor Abhijit Banerjee
Professor Abhijit Banerjee (Photo credit: kalyan3)

“We have to use cliches,” said professor Abhijit Banerjee at the start of his LSE lecture on Poor Economics. “The world is just too complicated.” He continued. “Which is why it is all the more important, we choose the right cliches.” [I’m paraphrasing here.]

This is an insight at the very heart of linguistics. Every language act we are a part of is an act of categorization. There are no simple unitary terms in language. When I say, “pull up a chair”, I’m in fact referring to a vast category of objects we refer to as chairs. These objects are not identified by any one set of features like four legs, certain height, certain ways of using it. There is no minimal set of features that will describe all chairs and just chairs and not other kinds of objects like tables or pillows. But chairs don’t stand on their own. They are related to other concepts or categories (and they are really one and the same). There are subcategories like stools and armchairs, containing categories like furniture or man-made objects and related categories like houses and shops selling objects. All of these categories are linked in our minds through a complex set of images, stories and definitions. But these don’t just live in our minds. They also appear in our conversations. So we say things like, “What kind of a chair would you like to buy?”, “That’s not real chair”, “What’s the point of a chair if you can’t sit in it?”, “Stools are not chairs.”, “It’s more of a couch than a chair.”, “Sofas are really just big plush chairs, when it comes down to it.”, “I’m using a box for a chair.”, “Don’t sit on a table, it’s not a chair.” Etc. Categories are not stable and uniform across all people, so we continue having conversations about them. There are experts on chairs, historians of chairs, chair craftsmen, people who buy chairs for a living, people who study the word ‘chair’, and people who casually use chairs. Some more than others. And their sets of stories and images and definitions related to chairs will be slightly different. And they will have had different types of conversations with different people about chairs. All of that goes into a simple word like “chair”. It’s really very simple as long as we accept the complexity for what it is. Philosophers of language have made a right mess of things because they tried to find simplicity where none exists. And what’s more where none is necessary.

But let’s get back to cliches. Cliches are types of categories. Or better still, cliches are categories with a particular type of social salience. Like categories, cliches are sets of images, stories and definitions compressed into seemingly simpler concepts that are labelled by some sort of an expression. Most prominently, it is a linguistic expression like a word or a phrase. But it could just as easily be a way of talking, way of dressing, way of being. What makes us likely to call something a cliche is a socially negotiated sense of awareness that the compression is somewhat unsatisfactory and that it is overused by people in lieu of an insight into the phenomenon we are describing. But the power of the cliche is in its ability to help us make sense of a complex or challenging phenomenon. But the sense making is for our benefit of cognitive and emotional peace. Just because we can make sense of something, doesn’t mean, we get the right end of the stick. And we know that, which is why we are wary of cliches. But challenging every cliche would be like challenging ourselves every time we looked at a chair. It can’t be done. Which is why we have social and linguistic coping mechanisms like “I know it’s such a cliche.” “It’s a cliche but in a way it’s true.” “Just because it’s a cliche, doesn’t mean, it isn’t true.” Just try Googling: “it’s a cliche *”

So we are at once locked into cliches and struggling to overcome them. Like “chair” the concept of a “cliche” as we use it is not simple. We use it to label words, phrases, people. We have stories about how to rebel against cliches. We have other labels for similar phenomena with different connotations such as “proverbs”, “sayings”, “prejudices”, “stereotypes”. We have whole disciplines studying these like cognitive psychology, social psychology, political science, anthropology, etc. And these give us a whole lot of cliches about cliches. But also a lot of knowledge about cliches.

The first one is exactly what this post started with. We have to use cliches. It’s who we are. But they are not inherently bad.

Next, we challenge cliches as much as we use them. (Well, probably not as much, but a lot.) This is something I’m trying to show through my research into frame negotiation. We look at concepts (the compressed and labelled nebulas of knowledge) and decompress them in different ways and repackage them and compress them into new concepts. (Sometimes this is called conceptual integration or blending.) But we don’t just do this in our minds. We do it in public and during conversations about these concepts.

We also know that unwillingness to challenge a cliche can have bad outcomes. Cliches about certain things (like people or types of people) are called stereotypes and particular types of stereotypes are called prejudices. And prejudices by the right people against the right kind of other people can lead to discrimination and death. Prejudice, stereotype, cliche. They are the same kind of thing presented to us from different angles and at different magnitudes.

So it is worth our while to harness the cliche negotiation that goes on all the time anyway and see if we can use it for something good. That’s not a certain outcome. The medieaval inquistions, anti-heresies, racism, slavery, genocides are all outcomes of negotiations of concepts. We mostly only know about their outcomes but a closer look will always reveal dissent and a lot of soul searching. And at the heart of such soul searching is always a decompression and recompression of concepts (conceptual integration). But it does not work in a vacuum. Actual physical or economic power plays a role. Conformance to communcal expectations. Personal likes or dislikes. All of these play a role.

George Lakoff
George Lakoff (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

So what chance have we of getting the right outcome? Do we even know what is the right outcome?

Well, we have to pick the right cliches says Abhijit Banerjee. Or we have to frame concepts better says George Lakoff. “We have to shine the light of truth” says a cliche.

“If you give people content, they’re willing to move away from their prejudices. Prejudices are partly sustained by the fact that the political system does not deliver much content.” says Banerjee. Prejudices matter in high stakes contexts. And they are a the result of us not challenging the right cliches in the right ways at the right time.

It is pretty clear from research in social psychology from Milgram on, that giving people information will challenge their cliches but only as long as you also give them sanction to challenge the cliches. Information on its own, does not seem to always be enough. Sometimes the contrary information even seems to reinforce the cliche (as we’re learning from newspaper corrections).

This is important. You can’t fool all of the people all of the time. Even if you can fool a lot of them a lot of the time. Information is a part of it. Social sanction of using that information in certain ways is another part of it. And this is not the province of the “elites”. People with the education and sufficient amount of idle time to worry about such things. There’s ample research to show that everybody is capable of this and engaged in these types of conceptual activities. More education seems to vaguely correlate with less prejudice but it’s not clear why. I also doubt that it does in a very straightforward and inevitable way (a post for another day). It’s more than likely that we’ve only studied the prejudices the educated people don’t like and therefore don’t have as much.

Bannerjee draws the following conclusion from his work uncovering cliches in development economics:

“Often we’re putting too much weight on a bunch of cliches. And if we actually look into what’s going on, it’s often much more mundane things. Things where people just start with the wrong presumption, design the wrong programme, they come in with their own ideology, they keep things going because there’s inertia, they don’t actually look at the facts and design programmes in ignorance. Bad things happen not because somebody wants bad things to happen but because we don’t do our homework. We don’t think hard enough. We’re not open minded enough.”

It sounds very appealing. But it’s also as if he forgot the point he started out with. We need cliches. And we need to remember that out of every challenge to a cliche arises a new cliche. We cannot go around the world with our concepts all decompressed and flapping about. We’d literally go crazy. So every challenge to a cliche (just like every paradigm-shifting Kuhnian revolution) is only the beginning phase of the formation of another cliche, stereotype, prejudice or paradigm (a process well described in Orwell’s Animal Farm which itself has in turn become a cliche of its own). It’s fun listening to Freakonomics radio to see how all the cliche busting has come to establish a new orthodoxy. The constant reminders that if you see things as an economist, you see things other people don’t don’t see. Kind of a new witchcraft. That’s not to say that Freakonomics hasn’t provided insights to challenge established wisdoms (a term arising from another perspective on a cliche). It most certainly has. But it hasn’t replaced them with “a truth”, just another necessary compression of a conceptual and social complex. During the moments of decompression and recompression, we have opportunities for change, however brief. And sometimes it’s just a memory of those events that lets us change later. It took over 150 years for us to remember the French revolution and make of it what we now think of as democracy with a tradition stretching back to ancient Athens. Another cliche. The best of a bad lot of systems. A whopper of a cliche.

So we need to be careful. Information is essential when there is none. A lot of prejudice (like some racism) is born simply of not having enough information. But soon there’s plenty of information to go around. Too much, in fact, for any one individual to sort through. So we resort to complex cliches. And the cliches we choose have to do with our in-groups, chains of trust, etc. as much as they do with some sort of rational deliberation. So we’re back where we started.

Humanity is engaged in a neverending struggle of personal and public negotiation of concepts. We’re taking them apart and putting them back together. Parts of the process happen in fractions of a second in individual minds, parts of the process happen over days, weeks, months, years and decades in conversations, pronouncements, articles, books, polemics, laws, public debates and even at the polling booths. Sometimes it looks like nothing is happening and sometimes it looks like everything is happening at once. But it’s always there.

So what does this have to do with metaphors and can a metaphor hacker do anything about it? Well, metaphors are part of the process. The same process that lets us make sense of metaphors, lets use negotiated cliches. Cliches are like little analogies and it takes a lot of cognition to understand them, take them apart and make them anew. I suspect most of that cognition (and it’s always discursive, social cognition) is very much the same that we know relatively well from metaphor studies.

But can we do anything about it? Can we hack into these processes? Yes and no. People have always hacked collective processes by inserting images and stories and definitions into the public debate through advertising, following talking points or even things like pushpolling. And people have manipulated individuals through social pressure, persuasion and lies. But none of it ever seems to have a lasting effect. There’re simply too many conceptual purchase points to lean on in any cliches to ever achieve a complete uniformity for ever (even in the most totalitarian regimes). In an election, you may only need to sway the outcome by a few percent. If you have military or some other power, you only need to get willing compliance from a sufficient number of people to keep the rest in line through a mix of conceptual and non-conceptual means. Some such social contracts last for centuries, others for decades and some for barely years or months. In such cases, even knowing how these processes work is not much better than knowing how continental drift works. You can use it to your advantage but you can’t really change it. You can and should engage in the process and try to nudge the conversation in a certain way. But there is no conceptual template for success.

But as individuals, we can certainly do quite a bit monitor our own cognition (in the broadest sense). But we need to choose our battles carefully. Use cliches but monitor what they are doing for us. And challenge the right ones at the right time. It requires a certain amount of disciplined attention and disciplined conversation.

This is not a pessimistic message, though. As I’ve said elsewhere, we can be masters of our own thoughts and feelings. And we have the power to change how we see the world and we can help others along with how they see the world. But it would be foolish to expect to world to be changed beyond all recognition just through the power of the mind. In one way or another, it will always look like our world. But we need to keep trying to make it look like the best possible version of our world. But this will not happen by following some pre-set epistemological route. Doing this is our human commitment. Our human duty. And perhaps our human inevitability. So, good luck to us.