I may be an optimist, but I'm hardly naive. I believe optimism is the only tenable attitude toward life: pessimism is naive and unfounded; cynicism is apathetic bordering on cowardly. Being optimistic isn't seeing the world through the proverbial rose coloured glasses, but it is a correction to the myopia and hidden privilege that comes in, for example, forms of privilege via post-modernism and the naivety of cultural relativism.
I've seen more of the world than most people, and when it was at its worst. I've seen nature's disasters, but more human crafted ones. I've seen great human cruelty, but I've also seen great human courage (which rarely looks like we expect it to look). Once, upon returning from the madness that was the ethnic cleansing, murder, and abysmal acts of human cruelty that was the former-Yugoslavia (c. 1993) my father--a former fire-rescue fire fighter--asked me how I could retain my 'positive' outlook. My response, an epiphany even to me, was simply: "In the worst of human suffering you will see the best of the human spirit."
And, many years later, I still hold to this as a truth.
As I said, I'm not naive. I know things are horrible in the world, but one of the things I've realized in studying history and, more importantly, from actually being to these places, is that the world is better off now even for the worst off of us, than it was for many of the best off several hundred years ago (and much, much better than 500+ years ago).
History clearly indicates this, but now statistics does too. This video, from BBC Four, titled "200 Countries, 200 Years, In Four Minutes," drives this point home.
As a final note, this isn't suggesting there isn't great wrongs to be righted, injustices to be fought, nor improvements to be made--in fact, saying such things is really a kinda of "No shit, Sherlock" moment than a meaningful or insightful point.
This video simply highlights that pessimism, cynicism, and such are, as I said, as untenable as they are unhelpful.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
Inherent Problems With Dualistic Narratives
"Either you are with us, or you are with the terrorists."
Of course, former U.S. President, George W. Bush was not the first person (nor will he be the last) to include such black and white statements within a national narrative. Such 'false dichotomies' have been part of the public discourse for as long as language and rhetoric have been a part of the human capacity.
Such examples are just simply cases of logical fallacies, they are also instances of what linguist George Lakoff terms 'framing'. When one frames a statement or question the speaker is setting the parameters within which the listener exists. If listeners are not cognizant of such rhetorical tactics it is easy for us to find ourselves with, in this case, only the two choices we are presented: help us; or, if you don't, you're helping the terrorists.
Upon reflection, listeners may come to realize that the situation is far more complicated than the 'either/or' in which it was framed...unfortunately, it is often too late to temper the effect of the narratives.
In most complex situations and circumstances the simple answer is rarely the best--or only--answer, however much we may wish it was. Truth be told, most complex situations are best described as shades of grey: they are plural.
Simply put, plurality is the ability to hold two or more--possibly contradictory--thoughts in our minds at once. Plurality then is a recognition of several tings: the complexity of the world-at-large; the complexity of the situations and circumstances humans often exist within in-the-world; and, the combined fact that there is usually more than one perspective as well as more than one or two possible solutions.
Therefore, we have a better chance of understanding the world, and our place in it, if we accept it as a murky grey instead of black and white. It is also worth noting that the latter rarely provides meaningful, equitable, or sustainable solutions, nor does it it address root causes to current situations. It is, in a phrase, an overly simplistic observation of the world.
Problems framed within a dualistic (black and white) narrative tend toward a competitive (neo-liberal) and hierarchical (religion based) view of human nature. On the one side, there is the neo-liberal model that privileges 'free markets' and 'private enterprises'. A competitive model is one that promotes an 'us' versus 'them' mentality over a more collaborative or community oriented one. This is also sometimes referred to as 'social Darwinsim'; a 'survival of the fittest narrative. Here is where we often see survival metaphors. On the other side, is some form of what is called the Puritan, or Protestant, Work Ethic. This belief holds that a persons 'success' is determined singularly through the hard work they devote to it. Just such a conflict existed in the competing narratives surrounding work and success in Victorian literature as seen in, for example, Charles Dickens' Hard Times, or Samuel Butler's, The Way of All Flesh.
When situations and circumstances are viewed from such a competitive model (and, by extensions the 'them' who exist in those situations and circumstances) then 'we' frame the solutions as a narrative where there are 'winners' and 'losers'; and, so, we also return to the survival metaphors when we hold that this is 'just the way the world works' (again, a form of social Darwinism...however unfair and inaccurate to Darwin). The danger gere, as should be obvious, is that the metaphors are seen as literal, or true.
Therefore, if we accept this framed narrative, and its ready-made (read: framed) solutions, we are more likely to accept that, in life, some will 'win' and some will 'lose'. Thereby, supporting whatever drastic responses deemed fit so as to sustain our survival over 'theirs' as, sadly and tragically, necessary. We then will go our merry way believing equilibrium has been restored, the problems have been 'solved' while creating a sub-narrative that allows us to ignore the (often un-necessary) suffering caused to 'them' in the process.
In the worst case scenarios--often situations where we perceive ourselves to be in dire circumstances--we will see the actions against 'them' as necessary in this 'dog eat dog' world. It may be tragic, but we console ourselves in narratives that suggest: "it is the way of things..;" or, "they had it coming..;"or, "they should have known better..,"; or, "what do you expect from those people..."
Often those who cannot stomach such a position or attitude will go too far into the realm of some form of relativism or subjectivism. In the case of the former, such people will treat all cultures or approaches as having equal merit or rights as any other irrespective of what egregious wrongs are being committed; as if there are no universal rights or ethics. Therefore, for example, the sentence of stoning a person to death for adultery should be considered relative to that context: who are 'we' to determine what is right and wrong. A position that should be untenable (and unpalatable) on face value to most people.
In the latter sense, that of subjectivism, which is an extension of relativism, we see people question whether there can even be 'right' and 'wrong'. These positions are as ill-advised as they are ill-informed. Such moral subjectivity can--and often does, in fact--lead to terrible cruelty and suffering going on unabated to the most vulnerable and marginalized of a society. Furthermore, they are positions that are capitalized upon by those who would hide such cruelty and suffering under nomenclature like 'relativism', 'subjectivity', or 'sovereignty'.
There is, however, a middle ground: that of pluralism.
To understand pluralism we must first recognize what 'relativism' is, and is not. Relativism in social sciences does not allow for obvious and egregious wrongs to be accepted, rather it is an observational stand point one takes in attempting to understand the attitude toward, and approach to, certain cultural practices and traditions. This is to say, for example, that an anthropologist will, when observing a culture, do his or her best to observe the norms and practices of a culture within that culture's own contexts; and, often, only for the purpose of clarity. As a corollary, if our anthropological observer insinuates his or her own cultural norms and practices--of, say, law or justice--onto their observations of another culture, then those observations are, by definition, corrupted, inaccurate, and--mot likely--worthless.
It is not, however, the case that our anthropologist must then leave that culture's practices as they are--granted how he or she would go about dealing with, say, human rights abuses (think: female genital mutilation) must be done in ways that are educational, meaningful (versus authoritarian or militaristic), and sustainable to that culture. That is to say, if that culture's narrative is to be changed the change must make sense to that culture--and this takes time, to say the least. Changes must also be, and be seen as, fair, reasonable, and balanced...certainly no easy task.
Take, for example, the issue of same sex marriage. By allowing groups with clear ideological or doctrinal agendas to frame the debate we have to accept that (a) there is a right and wrong (i.e. black and white) version of marriage, and that (b) we, the masses, must choose only between the options presented to us (and, often, are we really even given much of a choice?). This is done so that normalcy, dignity, and society is 'saved' from those who would 'attack our way of life'.
Again, note the underlying competitive model: choices are either 'right' or 'wrong'. There is also an implicit (if not explicit) hierarchy at work here, let alone an overly simplistic view of, in this case, human emotions (for what's really at the core here is who it is that one can properly--or naturally--'love').
However, if we view the species from a more humble perspective (because, let's be honest, those who view it from a black and white--or conservative--perspective see themselves as having all the answers. This is because they believe there are right and wrong answers, usually as stated in a religious doctrine or text) then we come to realize that 'our' perspective is not the only perspective; that is to say, 'our' view is not necessarily a complete one.
It is better then to see the world as a large pie-chart where, say, 1000 years ago only a few pieces of the pie were known (or even thought about); then, 500 years ago we added a few more pieces, but there were still many 'blank' spots in the overall pie dish, if you will. Today we can say that we've filled in more pieces than there were, say, 500 or 1000 thousand years ago (this isn't suggesting we're 'better' by the way); however, there are still blank spots even in our pie dish as anyone would expect when viewing a dynamic process.
Such a perspective allows for us to see practices and traditions as acceptable or non-acceptable. For example, perhaps 1000 years ago having a 12 year old bride was not only acceptable, but necessary relative to the conditions of the time. This should not be a surprise when we consider that the average life span of any individual was about 40-45 years. Furthermore, the sooner one had a larger family, the sooner one had labour and thus increased the likelihood of survival.
These may have been the circumstances then, but they are not the circumstances now (and, even if they are, this solution is not a viable one), so judgment upon them is irrelevant (but not without use). In fact, to judge then by now is to participate in the historical and logical fallacy of anachronism. The goal of history is to create a narrative that corresponds to evidence so as to best understand practices and behavior of the past; to understand the past, not to recreate it (thus the danger of nostalgia, or 'the good ole days' belief).
So, today, we should not see ourselves as better, smarter, or more ethical than those of the past, although we can certainly see life as 'better', but this is relative.
Advances in health-care, jurisprudence, society, and a myriad of other factors--obvious and not--have allowed us, for example, to have a life span that doubles that of our kin from 1000 years ago. Therefore, the pressure of survival does not apply to us today if, say, one wants a 12 year old bride. Furthermore, research into child development have illustrated to us that heaping on such responsibilities, both physical and mental, is, at best, counter-productive--not only to the child, but to society at-large. Finally, advances in technology have allowed longer growing seasons, and longer growing seasons in otherwise hostile terrain, greater agrarian yields, significant reductions in disease--to crops and to humans--among many other advances. So, the weight of survival--for most of the world (believe it or not)--is not as exigent as it once was. Therefore, the practices and traditions (and narratives) of the past do not suit the conditions of today.
All in all then, the need for (or even simply practice of) child brides is, literally, a thing of the past. So, if one observes such practices in another culture today--however relative to that culture--one certainly can (and should) determine said practices as being unsuitable to today, if not downright unacceptable.
The same situation can be applied to same-sex marriage. In this day and age one does not have to agree with two people of the same sex being 'married', but we do have to allow for it if we are to hold to our beliefs in the rights of others: live and let live, so the saying goes. Certainly a better position will be one where people understand that 'love knows no bounds', but we are in a state of changing the narrative (a paradigm shift) as we speak. Such an enlightened narrative is a thing to come...hopefully, that is.
Also, we need not accept the frame that, on the one hand, supports the dated notion that such a union is un-natural and/or un-holy; neither should we have to accept that 'we' are, by virtue of allowing such un-holy or un-natural unions, undermining the 'institution of marriage' or of the 'family'. To hold to such notions is to hold to a historical and ideologically bound narrative; that is to say: a stagnant one. In fact, if we do hold to either institutions as defined by such notions we are relegating ourselves to the past.
There isn't a 'correct' definition of marriage--although there may be acceptable and no-acceptable versions (same-sex does not fall into this category)--rather, there is a new addition to our pie-chart...this is, whether one wishes to accept it nor not, what we mean when we speak of progress.
We must understand that by accepting the frustration, instability, and murkiness of plurality we are accepting that (a) we don't know everything and (b) we can accept change without (c) destroying 'our' values by demeaning 'theirs'...in essence, when we add to the empty pieces in the pie dish we're acting both ethically, humanely, and accepting that change occurs...again, whether we like it or not.
This is the nature of the word 'dynamic'; a word that cannot abide by the static nature of dualism.
We also have to be on guard--as it were--for these circumstances in the literature of the past.
Just as the anthropologist we discussed observes a culture's practices in an honestly relative way, so to must we read the narratives of literature equally honestly and critically. Northrop Frye speaks to just this when, in The Great Code: The Bible and Literature, he notes that to read the Bible literally is to read it (a) out of context, and then (b) to misread it (and, thus, misunderstand its worth) as a whole.
The same is to be said of contemporary readings of any cosmogonic myths. We are mis-reading them if we read them as having something to say--specifically and literally--to today's sciences. This is a condition we see often in alternative medicine's language of 'ancient wisdom'.
Not only is this, then, a misreading, but it does a disservice to, on the one hand, the purpose of the texts to the audiences of the past (and how they read, understood, used, and made it meaningful), but also, on the other hand, to the advances, knowledge, and uses of today's sciences. In this latter sense, certainly ancient texts have both purpose and meaning, but that meaning is relegated to the realm of the metaphorical and, thus, meta-physical.
We read ancient texts and narratives literally at our peril and at the expense of the knowledge they contain when we read it literally. In essence, we diminish the authors and audience of the past, and, in turn, deny ourselves the pertinent meaning within their narratives.
George W. Bush
Of course, former U.S. President, George W. Bush was not the first person (nor will he be the last) to include such black and white statements within a national narrative. Such 'false dichotomies' have been part of the public discourse for as long as language and rhetoric have been a part of the human capacity.
Such examples are just simply cases of logical fallacies, they are also instances of what linguist George Lakoff terms 'framing'. When one frames a statement or question the speaker is setting the parameters within which the listener exists. If listeners are not cognizant of such rhetorical tactics it is easy for us to find ourselves with, in this case, only the two choices we are presented: help us; or, if you don't, you're helping the terrorists.
Upon reflection, listeners may come to realize that the situation is far more complicated than the 'either/or' in which it was framed...unfortunately, it is often too late to temper the effect of the narratives.
In most complex situations and circumstances the simple answer is rarely the best--or only--answer, however much we may wish it was. Truth be told, most complex situations are best described as shades of grey: they are plural.
Simply put, plurality is the ability to hold two or more--possibly contradictory--thoughts in our minds at once. Plurality then is a recognition of several tings: the complexity of the world-at-large; the complexity of the situations and circumstances humans often exist within in-the-world; and, the combined fact that there is usually more than one perspective as well as more than one or two possible solutions.
Therefore, we have a better chance of understanding the world, and our place in it, if we accept it as a murky grey instead of black and white. It is also worth noting that the latter rarely provides meaningful, equitable, or sustainable solutions, nor does it it address root causes to current situations. It is, in a phrase, an overly simplistic observation of the world.
Problems framed within a dualistic (black and white) narrative tend toward a competitive (neo-liberal) and hierarchical (religion based) view of human nature. On the one side, there is the neo-liberal model that privileges 'free markets' and 'private enterprises'. A competitive model is one that promotes an 'us' versus 'them' mentality over a more collaborative or community oriented one. This is also sometimes referred to as 'social Darwinsim'; a 'survival of the fittest narrative. Here is where we often see survival metaphors. On the other side, is some form of what is called the Puritan, or Protestant, Work Ethic. This belief holds that a persons 'success' is determined singularly through the hard work they devote to it. Just such a conflict existed in the competing narratives surrounding work and success in Victorian literature as seen in, for example, Charles Dickens' Hard Times, or Samuel Butler's, The Way of All Flesh.
When situations and circumstances are viewed from such a competitive model (and, by extensions the 'them' who exist in those situations and circumstances) then 'we' frame the solutions as a narrative where there are 'winners' and 'losers'; and, so, we also return to the survival metaphors when we hold that this is 'just the way the world works' (again, a form of social Darwinism...however unfair and inaccurate to Darwin). The danger gere, as should be obvious, is that the metaphors are seen as literal, or true.
Therefore, if we accept this framed narrative, and its ready-made (read: framed) solutions, we are more likely to accept that, in life, some will 'win' and some will 'lose'. Thereby, supporting whatever drastic responses deemed fit so as to sustain our survival over 'theirs' as, sadly and tragically, necessary. We then will go our merry way believing equilibrium has been restored, the problems have been 'solved' while creating a sub-narrative that allows us to ignore the (often un-necessary) suffering caused to 'them' in the process.
In the worst case scenarios--often situations where we perceive ourselves to be in dire circumstances--we will see the actions against 'them' as necessary in this 'dog eat dog' world. It may be tragic, but we console ourselves in narratives that suggest: "it is the way of things..;" or, "they had it coming..;"or, "they should have known better..,"; or, "what do you expect from those people..."
Often those who cannot stomach such a position or attitude will go too far into the realm of some form of relativism or subjectivism. In the case of the former, such people will treat all cultures or approaches as having equal merit or rights as any other irrespective of what egregious wrongs are being committed; as if there are no universal rights or ethics. Therefore, for example, the sentence of stoning a person to death for adultery should be considered relative to that context: who are 'we' to determine what is right and wrong. A position that should be untenable (and unpalatable) on face value to most people.
In the latter sense, that of subjectivism, which is an extension of relativism, we see people question whether there can even be 'right' and 'wrong'. These positions are as ill-advised as they are ill-informed. Such moral subjectivity can--and often does, in fact--lead to terrible cruelty and suffering going on unabated to the most vulnerable and marginalized of a society. Furthermore, they are positions that are capitalized upon by those who would hide such cruelty and suffering under nomenclature like 'relativism', 'subjectivity', or 'sovereignty'.
There is, however, a middle ground: that of pluralism.
To understand pluralism we must first recognize what 'relativism' is, and is not. Relativism in social sciences does not allow for obvious and egregious wrongs to be accepted, rather it is an observational stand point one takes in attempting to understand the attitude toward, and approach to, certain cultural practices and traditions. This is to say, for example, that an anthropologist will, when observing a culture, do his or her best to observe the norms and practices of a culture within that culture's own contexts; and, often, only for the purpose of clarity. As a corollary, if our anthropological observer insinuates his or her own cultural norms and practices--of, say, law or justice--onto their observations of another culture, then those observations are, by definition, corrupted, inaccurate, and--mot likely--worthless.
It is not, however, the case that our anthropologist must then leave that culture's practices as they are--granted how he or she would go about dealing with, say, human rights abuses (think: female genital mutilation) must be done in ways that are educational, meaningful (versus authoritarian or militaristic), and sustainable to that culture. That is to say, if that culture's narrative is to be changed the change must make sense to that culture--and this takes time, to say the least. Changes must also be, and be seen as, fair, reasonable, and balanced...certainly no easy task.
Take, for example, the issue of same sex marriage. By allowing groups with clear ideological or doctrinal agendas to frame the debate we have to accept that (a) there is a right and wrong (i.e. black and white) version of marriage, and that (b) we, the masses, must choose only between the options presented to us (and, often, are we really even given much of a choice?). This is done so that normalcy, dignity, and society is 'saved' from those who would 'attack our way of life'.
Again, note the underlying competitive model: choices are either 'right' or 'wrong'. There is also an implicit (if not explicit) hierarchy at work here, let alone an overly simplistic view of, in this case, human emotions (for what's really at the core here is who it is that one can properly--or naturally--'love').
However, if we view the species from a more humble perspective (because, let's be honest, those who view it from a black and white--or conservative--perspective see themselves as having all the answers. This is because they believe there are right and wrong answers, usually as stated in a religious doctrine or text) then we come to realize that 'our' perspective is not the only perspective; that is to say, 'our' view is not necessarily a complete one.
It is better then to see the world as a large pie-chart where, say, 1000 years ago only a few pieces of the pie were known (or even thought about); then, 500 years ago we added a few more pieces, but there were still many 'blank' spots in the overall pie dish, if you will. Today we can say that we've filled in more pieces than there were, say, 500 or 1000 thousand years ago (this isn't suggesting we're 'better' by the way); however, there are still blank spots even in our pie dish as anyone would expect when viewing a dynamic process.
Such a perspective allows for us to see practices and traditions as acceptable or non-acceptable. For example, perhaps 1000 years ago having a 12 year old bride was not only acceptable, but necessary relative to the conditions of the time. This should not be a surprise when we consider that the average life span of any individual was about 40-45 years. Furthermore, the sooner one had a larger family, the sooner one had labour and thus increased the likelihood of survival.
These may have been the circumstances then, but they are not the circumstances now (and, even if they are, this solution is not a viable one), so judgment upon them is irrelevant (but not without use). In fact, to judge then by now is to participate in the historical and logical fallacy of anachronism. The goal of history is to create a narrative that corresponds to evidence so as to best understand practices and behavior of the past; to understand the past, not to recreate it (thus the danger of nostalgia, or 'the good ole days' belief).
So, today, we should not see ourselves as better, smarter, or more ethical than those of the past, although we can certainly see life as 'better', but this is relative.
Advances in health-care, jurisprudence, society, and a myriad of other factors--obvious and not--have allowed us, for example, to have a life span that doubles that of our kin from 1000 years ago. Therefore, the pressure of survival does not apply to us today if, say, one wants a 12 year old bride. Furthermore, research into child development have illustrated to us that heaping on such responsibilities, both physical and mental, is, at best, counter-productive--not only to the child, but to society at-large. Finally, advances in technology have allowed longer growing seasons, and longer growing seasons in otherwise hostile terrain, greater agrarian yields, significant reductions in disease--to crops and to humans--among many other advances. So, the weight of survival--for most of the world (believe it or not)--is not as exigent as it once was. Therefore, the practices and traditions (and narratives) of the past do not suit the conditions of today.
All in all then, the need for (or even simply practice of) child brides is, literally, a thing of the past. So, if one observes such practices in another culture today--however relative to that culture--one certainly can (and should) determine said practices as being unsuitable to today, if not downright unacceptable.
The same situation can be applied to same-sex marriage. In this day and age one does not have to agree with two people of the same sex being 'married', but we do have to allow for it if we are to hold to our beliefs in the rights of others: live and let live, so the saying goes. Certainly a better position will be one where people understand that 'love knows no bounds', but we are in a state of changing the narrative (a paradigm shift) as we speak. Such an enlightened narrative is a thing to come...hopefully, that is.
Also, we need not accept the frame that, on the one hand, supports the dated notion that such a union is un-natural and/or un-holy; neither should we have to accept that 'we' are, by virtue of allowing such un-holy or un-natural unions, undermining the 'institution of marriage' or of the 'family'. To hold to such notions is to hold to a historical and ideologically bound narrative; that is to say: a stagnant one. In fact, if we do hold to either institutions as defined by such notions we are relegating ourselves to the past.
There isn't a 'correct' definition of marriage--although there may be acceptable and no-acceptable versions (same-sex does not fall into this category)--rather, there is a new addition to our pie-chart...this is, whether one wishes to accept it nor not, what we mean when we speak of progress.
We must understand that by accepting the frustration, instability, and murkiness of plurality we are accepting that (a) we don't know everything and (b) we can accept change without (c) destroying 'our' values by demeaning 'theirs'...in essence, when we add to the empty pieces in the pie dish we're acting both ethically, humanely, and accepting that change occurs...again, whether we like it or not.
This is the nature of the word 'dynamic'; a word that cannot abide by the static nature of dualism.
We also have to be on guard--as it were--for these circumstances in the literature of the past.
Just as the anthropologist we discussed observes a culture's practices in an honestly relative way, so to must we read the narratives of literature equally honestly and critically. Northrop Frye speaks to just this when, in The Great Code: The Bible and Literature, he notes that to read the Bible literally is to read it (a) out of context, and then (b) to misread it (and, thus, misunderstand its worth) as a whole.
The same is to be said of contemporary readings of any cosmogonic myths. We are mis-reading them if we read them as having something to say--specifically and literally--to today's sciences. This is a condition we see often in alternative medicine's language of 'ancient wisdom'.
Not only is this, then, a misreading, but it does a disservice to, on the one hand, the purpose of the texts to the audiences of the past (and how they read, understood, used, and made it meaningful), but also, on the other hand, to the advances, knowledge, and uses of today's sciences. In this latter sense, certainly ancient texts have both purpose and meaning, but that meaning is relegated to the realm of the metaphorical and, thus, meta-physical.
We read ancient texts and narratives literally at our peril and at the expense of the knowledge they contain when we read it literally. In essence, we diminish the authors and audience of the past, and, in turn, deny ourselves the pertinent meaning within their narratives.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
From Humble Beginnings...
 |
| Illustration by Theodor von Holst from the frontispiece of the 1831 edition of the novel, Frankenstein, The Modern Prometheus, by Mary Shelley |
Recently, I've been reading Susan Tyler Hitchcock's Frankenstein: A Cultural History. It's a fascinating look into the many manifestations and interpretations of Mary Shelley's creation. Beginning with the literary roots of the novel in the ancient stories of Prometheus (as evident in the novel's sub-title) to its historical roots in that oft mythologized meeting at Lake Geneva during "The Year Without a Summer"...the summer at Villa Diodati has, perhaps, gone through more interpretations, exaggerations, and hyperbole than Shelley's story.
This being said, one should not overlook the magnitude of the creations that sprung from this rather inauspicious summer get-a-way. Out of this gathering came two of the western worlds most innovative, curious, and culturally influential 'monsters': Frankenstein and Dracula. It is interesting to note, too, that Stoker was present at the Villa Diodati during that same summer that inspired Mary Shelley, although Stoker would not write his novel until 1897.
Without playing favorites, my interest here is in the creation of Dr. Frankenstein and his 'monster' through Mary Shelley. As much as I admire--and often return to--the concept of the Vampire, the more I realize that this creature has really not evolved. It is today much akin to Bram Stoker's Dracula. Stoker's story was built on earlier versions as seen in Sheridan le Fanu's, Carmilla; James Rhymer's, Varney; and, Pollidori's Vampyre. I find it curious that there is no ancient Greek predecessor to Dracula, or the Vampire. The roots of Stoker's creature rest in legend more than mythology. The roots of this stem from his 'research' into Emily Gerard's 1885 Transylvannia Superstitions. The name of his creature, Dracula, comes from the name the 13th Century Duke, Vlad II, of Wallachia who, upon entering the 'Order of the Dragon', took the name Dracul--interestingly enough, Vlad the Impaler was his son and not, as Coppola's film holds, himself.
Shelley's Frankenstein creation has roots in the mythological not the legendary, and here I must take a moment to express the difference between the two as I see it.
At the core of a legend there is some truth, granted it is not necessarily the truth we would wish.
Case in point: Bigfoot, or the Sasquatch. Basically unknown to the western world until the Patterson-Gimlin film (1967), Bigfoot grew from a local legend stemming from footprints to a wider audience once the film was 'discovered'. This film spurred, for example, Hollywood's own The Legend of Boggy Creek (1972). Titled a 'docu-drama' capitalizing on the popularity of the Patterson film (as it became known). The trailer for the film can be seen here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E9V44D9xZ70.
Because of the creatures popularity people began seeking out the background to this creautre and, out of this, came many other stories (Sasquatch, for example, is from the Salish peoples) and connections to other cultures manifestations, as in the Himilayan's Yeti. The 'truth' of this legend stems from one Ray Wallace who, in 1958, made the first tracks and subsequently capitalized on the popularity by helping to grow the 'sightings'. He did this by creating his own films, photos, and foot castings (He, himself, was not in the suit that Patterson caught on the film. He did, however, say he knew who was in it).
So, at the core of the Bigfoot legend is a truth: some guy (or girl, seeing as Mrs. Wallace is on record saying she wore a suit for husband Ray's films on occasion, just not for the Patterson film) in a suit....but it's not the 'truth' many believers would want (or accept, seeing as people still believe in the big B).
Myths, on the other hand, do not have a 'truth' at their core. That being said, it is erroneous to see them as lies or falsehoods, as they are often presented in contemporary parlance. Myths are very real in the sense that they are collective knowledge, or 'lessons learned', lessons learned sometimes at great expense (e.g. some one else's life). These very real lessons are then passed on to others in the form of the most long-lived and common form of pedagogy: metaphorical and didactic stories. Thus, even today, we have Prometheus--modern or classical. It should be noted that Prometheus' name, in ancient Greek, means 'forethought'. So, at least in part, his story is the story--the lesson--is of thinking before acting irrespective of how noble the act (e.g. stealing fire for humans). Today, we could say that you should 'think before you act'. So, Prometheus' lesson is an important one and it is in our nature to recast it in a contemporary narrative for a contemporary audience. Prometheus didn't exist literally, yet his importance is undeniable--even today. But only if we (re-)interpret metaphorically. Herein lies the problem of those, for example, who hold to the inerrancy of the Bible. Although the lessons and the knowledge of this text are, I believe (as an atheist) are undeniable, they're meant to be read figuratively--metaphorically--not literally, or, worse, as evidence or proof. As a historical text, the bible fails even the most casual rigor of evidence; as literature, however, it is a wealth of knowledge (as seen in Northrup Frye's The Great Code: The Bible As Literature ; a 'required' read by anyone interested in this topic).
In literature we refers to stories as having not 'truth' rather verisimilitude; that is we ask the question: is it believable, for this is what holds us to a narrative (and allows us to 'suspend disbelief'). So, for example, Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings cannot, by any sane person, be seen as holding 'truth' (unless we use truth metaphorically, a pitfall of those who hold to the inerrancy of the Bible, for example). Yet, read as an allegory it has much to tell us--and richly--of the bond between friends, for example. In this sense, it is a great tale, but a tale retold as seen in its roots, for exampe, in the Epic of Gilgamesh or the Song of Roland. Yet, there really are no Orcs, Hobbits, dragons, or Wizards...sadly, perhaps. That being sad, and like the great tales it borrowed from, and was built upon, there is much to be learned in "those quiet watches of the night" when reading them.
And, so, we return to Frankenstein, as a myth not a legend.
Shelley's creation has gone through several manifestations and, perhaps sadly, distillations. In some instances it has stagnated since Karloff's wonderful portrayal, although Karloff can hardly be held responsible. In other instances, it, like any great myth, has been recast to suit the times the tale was told (and as a reflection of the times it was told in, for monster tales are always expressions of our unconscious fears and, so, sometimes they transcend time, and other times they are tied to it.). And, in regards to this latter point, I think one of the most interesting of these interpretations comes in Karel Capek's play, R.U.R.(Rossum's Universal Robots). It is, in fact, Capek's play that gave us the term 'robot'.
During the latter half of the 19th Century Frankenstein made a re-appearance and gained immense popularity on stage. It was used as a metaphor, for example, for things as seemingly un-connected as the growth of the corporation (as a creation of man run out of control). Capek's play was also influenced by the Frankenstein creations, yet he manifest the story--the lesson to be learned--in a different form, a form to suit the fears and challenges of the times: the automation of work. Today we have forgotten the impact automation had upon society, although I think we still have some of the same fears of being made 'redundant'. Robots have gone through a recent revival based, in no small part, on the actual advances of robotics. But we still see them as mostly mechanical creations.
However, Capek saw the creations as chemically created entities, entities that would reach their pinnacle when they attained a soul; that is: consciousness. This, as should come as no surprise by now, was due to the advances and claims (sometimes wild) made in biology, chemistry which gave birth to a entirely new field: biochemistry. Sciences that were claiming--in some truth--to be reaching for the 'essence' of life. We we're becoming much more god-like than anyone before had realized. In this sense, and like the Jewish story of The Golem, Frankestein is a creation of man through science. Although the Golem is more a creation of magic, but here the narratives of science and myth cross-over in the 'science' of alchemy, something which bio-chemistry, to many observers--even scientists' themselves--appeared. This interpretation of the myth as a threat to the very existence of man is seen as an extension of man's creation. This can be seen in other mediums re-telling the story: Edison's 1910 Frankenstein and the characters of Maria in Fritz Lang's 1927 Metropolis. Both of these films take their cue from the late 18th Century concern of science and technology replacing humans and the effect this would have. This shouldn't be surprising seeing as the advances of sciences, into hereto unheard territory, were occurring at break-neck speeds, speeds well beyond the capacity of the average person to comprehend and for the scientists' to see where they might go. Hubris, indeed.
Then, in 1931, Whale and Karloff brought their version of the creature to film, granted in a rather reductionist and overly simplistic (albeit the most popular and iconic!) version. This interpretation--great for its time--certainly does little justice to the mythological aspect. We see this in the static nature of the creature since that time. That is to say that many of the re-creations since this film have taken their cue directly from the Whale/Karloff 'monster', yet have not adapted it 'to the times' they present it in.
However, because the story is a mythological one, other manifestations have cropped up based on the underlying message, the message of hubris. However, I would add that the message is not simply one of hubris; rather, many new interpretations also draw attention to the more subtle thoughts about the effects of a lack of forethought, remembering the ancient meaning of the name Prometheus. Now, what I mean by this is simply that, although there certainly is the lesson of hubris, there is also the accompanying shock and realization of the responsibility the creators have to that creation once said creation is alive. In essence, what happens after the famous: "It's alive....ALIVE!!"
So, here we see new interpretations of the message in such stories that, at first glance, my not seem directly influenced by Shelley's creation. For example, in Asimov's robot series (seen quite clearly in the 'character' of Sonny in the Will Smith version). Also, Asmiov's Three Laws of Robotics speak directly to this post-hubris realization. Other examples include: the replicants (including Deckard) in Bladerunner; Data in Star Trek: The Next Generation episode, The Measure of a Man (or, for that matter, just Data in general); or David in A.I.: Artificial Intelligence, from Brian Aldiss', "Super-Toys Last All Summer Long."
I think this is also a testament to the fact that science fiction has picked up the dead end left by the static version of the Whale/Karloff's Frankenstein. Sci-Fi--especially in its dystopian traditions (as seen in Phillip K. Dick's, Do Android's Dream of Electric Sheep, the source of Ridley Scott's, Bladerunner)--evolves the messages in the traditional myth making them relevant to today's audiences, yet the lesson is still present as we would expect. Perhaps this is why Kenneth Branagh's attempt to return to the traditional--accurate--version of Shelley's story failed so miserably (bad acting, editing, and directing aside).
The message in the Frankenstein myth--that which resonantes Prometheus--is alive and well in the concept of how our modern day science may be on the verge of actually creating living human beings. We've done so as clones to sheep, as in the (in)famous, Dolly; and, we know it is possible to clone higher life forms. We have, in a round about way, already done so in in vitro fertilization. How long then before we have the capacity to create another human-like being? Therefore, the lesson of forethought, of hubris, of thinking ahead are all still present just as we would expect in a mythical tale.
The message of hubris is one, we could say, that we're actively aware of and are at least trying to deal as seen in the areas of law and ethics that deal with these issues both reactively and proactively. However, are we ready for the responsibility that will come when--not if--we create such a being..? In essence, have we learned the lessons from previous expeditions into this realm..?
Where, in essence, is evidence of our forethought..? Or, will we find ourselves, metaphorically, all alone on a desolate ice flow searching for the creature we created with an aim to destroying it due to our lack of forethought and, in so doing, destroy 'the monster, ourselves'..?
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