This post shall be a reading of Gibbons, Limoges, Nowotny, Schwartzman, Scott and Trow’s ‘The New Production of Knowledge: The Dynamics of Science and Research in Contemporary Societies’. About ‘Mode 2’ science it offers a perspective on transdisciplinarity.
If I were to describe the main varieties of transdisciplinarity; I would suggest there is Nicolescu’s metaphysical essays and treatises (e.g. Nicolescu 2012; 2014), complex systems and complex thought (Morin, 2008) and finally ‘Mode 2’ Science as described in the book I am reviewing (Nowotny, Scwartzman, et. al, 1994). I believe these versions of transdisciplinarity are not contradictory (especially as Nicolescu accounts for contradictions with his ‘included middle’), yet their aims are quite different. Nicolescu looks at how we ought to think about reality, whereas ‘Mode 2’ looks at how society actually is. Complexity theory does both. Thus, I found ‘Mode 2’ science to be much more grounded in the sense that it is a examination of knowledge production in the contemporary climate, rather than looking at how we need to/should change.
As an account of knowledge, it offers an epistemology that suggests knowing can be found outside the academy. It can be found in ‘non-university institutes, research centres, government agencies, industrial laboratories, think-tanks, consultancies’. This partly due the massification of university education according to the authors and knowledge-producers going into roles outside universities. Yet, I would go further, that knowledge can be generated outside of institutions and beyond university-educated individuals. Consider survivor research (Faulkener, 2017; Russo, 2012) and Mad Studies (LeFrançois, Reaume and Menzies, 2013), these suggest mental health patients are ‘experts by experience’. They can offer insights into their own situation what others can not. Of course, certain sciences like sociology and psychology engage with individuals outside academia, yet these inevitably come with frameworks that guide the researcher and may affect the knowledge collected. Whether this is a good or bad thing is up for debate.
One aspect I found interesting is the author’s focus on knowledge produced within the humanities- they argue the sciences are not the only site of society-relevant knowledge. As the authors write ‘Multi-site production of culture has been routine rather than exceptional, although the focus of extra-academic production has switched from the Victorian gentleman-scholar’s study, through the publishing house, to the television studio or advertising agency.’ In other words, cultural production is no longer found as a gentleman’s activities rather it is distributed through society. This may be true for the arts, but what about the humanities? I would argue we can learn from history when it comes to the way we conceptualise the contexts from which knowledge emerges from, especially through thinkers like Boethius and Cassiodorus (both from Late Antique Italy). For them, there was no boundaries between subjects when it came to the Liberal Arts. Masi (1974) describes Boethius’ idea of disciplinarity. Mathematics is necessary for the study of music, whereas one needs to understand geometry in order to be an astronomer. Number theory is also seen as a pivotal to understand theology and philosophy, particularly because it helps understand God’s relationship to the cosmos. Also consider Cassiodorus’ Instituones and its integrated-disciplinary guide to understanding the world (Jackson, 1966). Transdisciplinarity has been practiced for a long-time, we can improve our theory of it by reading past ‘generalists’. Finally, we also need to consider the contexts in which social knowledge can be produced within the humanities, such as public history, social fiction in literature and experimental philosophy (Andow, 2016; Moss, 2017).
‘Mode 2’ science is also characterised ‘through the repeated configuration of human resources in flexible, essentially transient, forms of organisation. The loop from the context of application through transdisciplinarity, heterogeneity, organisational diversity is closed by new adaptive and contextual forms of quality control.’ This, much like I mentioned when talking about Edgar Morin, reminds me of an agile approach to project management. Agile is a technique and work philosophy that aims to be adaptive and iterative to engage with emerging complex problems (Fernandez and Fernandez, 2008). The emphasis on quality control reminds me of the ‘feedback cycle’ in Agile in which new iterations are released frequently, in order to gain feedback that in turn develops the project (Dybå, Dingsøyr and Moe, 2014).
Another factor to consider is the development of technologies that should facilitate ‘Mode 2’ science. As the authors argue, technology is allowing the world to become more globalised. This may be through increased communication or improved access to resources for universities that might not have a large library. In the former, there are Skype, Zoom, e-mail and online whiteboards like Miro. The increase in resources (and consequentially knowledge) can be found on sources like the Directory of Open Access Journals (DOAJ), Academia.edu and ResearchGate. Many of these are twenty first century inventions, so the authors likely underestimated the extent to which technology and globalisation are linked.
Finally, I want to touch on the economics of transdisicplinarity and knowledge. One aspect of ‘Mode 2 Science’ relates to where funding is acquired from, for example government, industry and consultancy groups are all now sources of funding. This means transdisciplinary research can function outside the university (something highlighted by its epistemic distribution as well). Furthermore, ‘increasingly there is less and less return on the traditional resources: land, labour and (money) capital. The main producers of wealth have become information and knowledge.’ This is a suggestion we live in a ‘knowledge economy.’ Knowledge is indeed becoming more critical such as seen through the growth of the quaternary sector, but the production of goods inevitably relies on primary and secondary production. However, the truth is these always relied on knowledge (i.e mastery of technical and practical skills), so we have always had a ‘knowledge economy’, in the sense that knowledge can emerge from outside university-educated professions (as discussed above).
This post has highlighted the areas of The New Production of Knowledge I find most interesting. As mentioned, ‘Mode 2’ Science offers a form of transdisciplinarity that is compatible with yet differs from Nicolescu and Morin. The issues highlighted here cannot be ignored, they can and should affect how we conceptualise knowledge and transdisciplinarity, whether this is a good or a bad thing is likely to be debated.
Dybå, Tore, Torgeir Dingsøyr, and Nils Brede Moe. 2014. “Agile project management.” In Software project management in a changing world, edited by Günther Ruhe, Claes Wohlin , 277-300. Berlin: Springer
Faulkner, Alison. 2017. “Survivor research and Mad Studies: the role and value of experiential knowledge in mental health research.” Disability & Society 32, no. 4: 500-520.
Fernandez, Daniel J., and John D. Fernandez. 2008. “Agile project management—agilism versus traditional approaches.” Journal of Computer Information Systems 49, no. 2: 10-17.
Gibbons, Michael, Camille Limoges, Helga Nowotny, Simon Schwartzman, Peter Scott, and Martin Trow. 1994. The New Production of Knowledge: The Dynamics of Science and Research in Contemporary Societies. Newbury Park: SAGE.
Jackson, Sidney L. 1966. “Cassiodorus’ Institutes and Christian Book Selection.” The Journal of Library History 1, no. 2 : 89–100.
LeFrançois, B. A., Menzies, R., & Reaume, G. Eds. 2013. Mad matters: A critical reader in Canadian mad studies. Toronto: Canadian Scholars’ Press.
Masi, Michael. 1974. “Boethius and the Iconography of the Liberal Arts.” Latomus 33, no. 1: 57–75.
Morin, Edgar. 2008. On Complexity. Translated by Robin Poster. New York: Hampton Press.
Moss, David. 2017. “Experimental philosophy, folk metaethics and qualitative methods.” Teorema: Revista Internacional de Filosofia. 185-203.
Nicolescu, Basarab. 2012. “Transdisciplinarity: the hidden third, between the subject and the object.” Human and Social Studies 01: 13-28.
Nicolescu, Basarab. 2014. “Methodology of Transdisciplinarity.” World Futures 70, no. 3-4: 186-199.
Russo, Jasna. 2012. “Survivor-controlled research: A new foundation for thinking about psychiatry and mental health.” Forum Qualitative Sozialforschung/Forum: Qualitative Social Research, 13, no. 1.
This post contains an MA essay on how craft united the philosophical fields of ethics and metaphysics in the writings of Alan of Lille and Bernardus Silvestrus.
The idea that, in the twelfth century, the School of Chartres connected metaphysics and ethics is not novel. Wetherbee states ‘These poems [of the Chartrian school] explore the significance of the cosmos as motive force and source of meaning in human existence, centering on the ordering power of nature and natural philosophy as means to stability and moral guidance.’ More recently, Robertson has argued that the Chartrian authors felt it necessary to explain the place of matter to ground their respective ethical visions. This paper builds on this work by examining the interrelationship of ethics and metaphysics at Chartres. It offers the first systematic and detailed account of the connections between these two philosophical fields in the pertinent writings. Furthermore, it argues that craft was often used as a literary device to show the union between ethics and metaphysics. Three works were focused on to explore these issues: Alan of Lille’s Anticlaudianus, Bernardus Silverstris’ Cosmographia and an older fourth century text that was influential at Chartres, Calcidius’ On Plato’s Timaeus. Occasionally, other texts will be cited if they are pertinent to the discussion. I will argue my case using the relevant texts in three sections. The first will examine how the role of craft occupies three levels in Chartrian and Neoplatonic thought. In turn, I will examine God’s role as craftsman, Nature and her assistants as craftsmen and finally the craft of mortal men. In each instance, the way in which craft connects ethics and metaphysics shall be revealed. The second section of the essay will ask a pivotal question that follows on from this. Namely, why did writers choose the language of craft as a way to connect these two separate philosophical fields? Finally, the last section argues that the medieval texts used in the essay must force us to reconsider the role of craft in our modern society. It offers a manifesto that shows the importance, and ultimately philosophical, significance of craft.
However, first, before beginning, it is necessary to provide a brief introduction to the texts that will be used in this essay. The best exposition of Silvestris’ Cosmographia comes from the author himself in the summary section. In the first part of the text, Megacosmus, Nature complains to Noys, or Divine Providence, about the confused state of primal matter. Noys responds and orders the universe. In Microcosmus, Noys wishes to finish her work with the creation of man, she orders Nature to search for Urania and Physis to aid in this task. Alan of Lille’s Anticlaudianus similarly describes the creation of a man, but this time the perfect man with all flaws removed. Nature is again involved in this task and summons the virtues to help her. It is resolved at a council that Prudentia will journey to heaven to ask God to create a soul. Near the end of the text, Allecto and the Furies hear of the new man and so they raise an army of vices to stop him. The virtues triumph in battle. Calcidius’ On Plato’s Timaeus is a commentary on Plato’s cosmological dialogue Timaeus. Calcidius’ translation and account was one of the main ways Platonic and Neoplatonic thought reached medieval readers. With the three key texts introduced, I will now begin to analyse them.
The first way in which craft, as a literary device, is used in Chartrian thought is when the authors talk about the divine craftsman, God. The characteristics of matter, and God’s role in shaping it, form the first way God and craft are interlinked. The state of primal matter is described by Nature in the Cosmographia. Silvestris writes that matter is ‘an unyielding, formless chaos, a hostile coalescence’ and is said to be ‘the motley aspect of substance, a mass discordant with itself.’ The link between ethics and metaphysics is clear here. Matter is described as chaotic and as an opponent, it has properties that make it negatively moral. This view of matter also emerges in On Plato’s Timaeus, when Calcidius discussed the Pythagorean view that matter is evil and requires a craftsman to shape it into something good. The idea that matter needs shaping into something good is not however exclusive to Calcidius. Silvestris also describes how matter needs a ‘tempering power’. Meanwhile, also in the Cosmographia, Nature when talking to Noys asks the latter to ‘quicken what is inert, control what moves at random, impose shape and bestow splendor’ on matter. The language of craft is present here, matter needs to be controlled and made into something different and Noys, the divine mind, or God can do this. Because of craft’s metaphysical ability to change matter it also has an ethical element as it can alter its ‘evil’ qualities. However, just because God’s crafting ability can shape matter, does not mean he does it perfectly. Silvestris describes how the midpoint of air is full of ‘evil spirits’ who are only ‘slightly cleansed of the ancient evil of matter.’ God’s craft, even if imperfect, has both metaphysical and ethical effects.
Another way in which ethics and metaphysics are linked by the idea of God as craftsman, emerges when discussing how he permeates his creation. With matter now shaped into the universe in the Cosmographia, Silvestris describes God as ‘concealed in the majesty of divine darkness’ and as ‘manifest in the clear traces of his handiwork.’ The term ‘handiwork’ has connotations of craft and it is clear from this statement that this ability to create is evidenced throughout God’s creation. Alan of Lille, in Anticlaudianus, similarly writes, ‘the divine mind imprinted form on things and shape on the universe’. God’s activity is ‘imprinted’ throughout the universe. Calcidius confirms this trend of thought when he writes that ‘the divine mind penetrates and informs it [matter] completely.’ Therefore, God is connected metaphysically to the universe due to his role in crafting it, he is physically tied to it. This also has ethical implications, if an omnibenevolent being is dispersed throughout his creation then it is likely the universe itself takes on an ethical character. This seems at odds with Silvestris’ statement that ‘evil spirits’ and ‘evil matter’ are still present in the created universe, but it does not necessarily need to be seen as contradictory. The ‘evil’ part of the universe is that matter which escaped God’s crafting. Nevertheless, it is still clear that ethics and metaphysics are interrelated when discussing God’s permeance. The language of creation and craft again unites them.
The final way in which God as a craftsman connects ethics and metaphysics is seen through God’s role in creating the soul of man. In Anticlaudianus, Prudentia, as previously mentions, journeys to heaven to ask God to create a soul. Meanwhile, the Cosmogtaphia states ‘man will derive his mind from heaven, his body from the elements, so that he dwell bodily on earth, mentally in heaven.’ The language of craft is not as explicit here, but we must not ignore these quotes. God’s role in creating the soul makes man an ethical being. It also allows the intellect of man to discern between what he sees (the appearance of things on earth) and the Platonic world of ideas (the true world behind what man sees). God’s crafting of the world makes man able to analyse it both ethically and metaphysically.
With God’s role as craftsman outlined and having examined how it interlinks ethics and metaphysics, I will now proceed to outline the craft of Nature and her assistants and how they also connect the two philosophical disciplines. The first important role of Nature is to translate the Platonic world of ideas into the sensible world. Truitt has previously highlighted this important role. The world of ideas, as also discussed in the previous paragraph, is the world which contains the true reality of objects or the true, perfect immaterial archetypes. What we see in our world, according to Platonic doctrine, are the physical and imperfect manifestations of these ideas. These essential features constitute key aspects of Platonic and Neoplatonic metaphysical thought. The way in which Nature translates the ideas into our world is compared to a craft, most notably painting. When describing Nature’s garden, Alan of Lille discusses ‘a charming mural’ that ‘depicts man’s character.’ He also writes that painting ‘turns the shadows of things into things and changes every lie to truth’. Later the Anticlaudinaus also states ‘the palace with its mural has these appearances of things, these figures and phantoms of truth and it is gay with so much beauty’. Painting is used as an explanatory device to discuss how the Platonic world of ideas is translated into reality. The painting, Nature’s creation, shows the world of appearances. Painting may have been chosen to discuss Platonic metaphysics because the craft only results in a representation of what it portrays, not the actual thing. However, the language of craft also goes far beyond just metaphysics. The painting also has ethical implications. It depicts, as mentioned, man’s character, and it also has beauty. Nature has a formative role in man’s character by translating the archetypes from the world of ideas to the intelligible world and a craft, painting, is used to explore these ideas. Ethics and metaphysics are those tied together again by the language of craft.
Before discussing Nature’s role in forming the body, I must briefly elaborate on Nature’s assistants and their crafting role. In both, Anticlaudianus and the Cosmographia, Nature is assisted in her creations. In the latter, Urania and Physis play a pivotal role in creating man. Meanwhile, in Alan of Lille’s text, virtues and the liberal arts help Nature on her quest to create the perfect man. One of these is geometry and Alan discussed how she ‘adopts the craftsmen’s role’ She focuses on an object and ‘puts the material, the lead, in order and many a hammer-blow falls upon it.’ Geometry then ‘fashions it into the form she desires’ and thereby ‘frees it from its former defects.’ Metaphysics and ethics are again linked here. Geometry’s ability to change the form of something allows her to eliminate its negative characteristics. Craft is chosen as the literary device to do this, likely because of how crafting is an activity that changes the form of things and due to its ability to eliminate previous errors. The craft of Nature’s assistants therefore links metaphysics and ethics together again.
There is another way in which ethics and metaphysics are tied together by Nature’s craft. Most notably, when discussing the creation of the human body. In Anticlaudianus, Nature seeks ‘ideal matter from which to shape an outstanding lodging.’ She then collects from the elements; earth, wind, air and fire, all the ‘purer’ parts to shape the body. Nature then ‘makes ready the material for the human body.’ Man is therefore drawn and made from the elements that make up the constitution of the physical world. He is directly associated with its metaphysics. The ethical element here is that man is made of the ‘purer’ parts, the parts that have been cleansed of evil matter. Craft is again the connecting factor between this ethics and metaphysics. The ‘material’ is made ‘ready’ and the body is made into ‘shape’. Therefore, there is yet another instance of craft linking ethics and metaphysics.
I have now discussed how ethics and metaphysics are linked by the role of God and Nature and her assistants as craftsmen. However, the language of craft occupies a final, if less explicit, level in Chartrian thought when referring to man. According to the earlier Calcidius, matter is ‘bestowed ready-made upon mortal craftsmen by other craftsmen, and upon the latter by nature, upon nature by God.’ Man is given control of matter from a hierarchy that descends from God. Man has the potential to shape the metaphysical properties of the world. This is emphasised by how Calcidius describes matter as compliant with the intellect, allowing itself to be ‘subdued’ and ‘overcome’. It may be true here that Calcidius is referring to the Divine Craftsmen, God, but the same can also be said of man. Man can also make matter compliant with his intellect, therefore shaping the metaphysical properties of the world. The ethical element here is the fact that crafting derives from the intellect, matter can be shaped for good and evil purposes from the mind. Craft is therefore linking metaphysics and ethics again, even if it is less obvious than previous cases.
Man’s role in ethical and metaphysical craft is also emphasised by his role in forming himself. Alan of Lille discussed how Noys, the divine mind, searches mankind to create an archetype for the new man. It is described that the new, perfect, man will contain ‘the wisdom of Judith, the zeal of Phineas, the faith of Abraham.’ It is notable how the new man will be composed of the characteristics of men who have already existed- suggesting mankind itself already has some ethical properties and has a role to play in his own crafting. This supports Truitt’s point that the boundary between man and nature when it comes to creation is not always clear. The theme of man having a role in creating himself is again emphasised in Anticlaudianus when Alan discusses some of the various attributes of men that the new man should have. Most notably, ’Seneca, the best cultivator of morals, and husbandmen of reason, forges character by reason.’ It is interesting how character is ‘forged’ like an activity of craft. The language of craft again penetrates discussion of ethics. The metaphysical element is not as prominent here when compared to other examples, but we must remember how metaphysics informs the creation of the new man. The new man is partly created from parts of mankind that already have a physical presence in the world. Therefore, ethics and metaphysics are again tied together, however tentatively in this instance, by craft.
So far I have outlined the three levels on which craft, ethics and metaphysics are interrelated in Calcidius and medieval Neoplatonic thought. However, one pivotal question remains, why was craft often employed as a literary device to link ethics and metaphysics? There are two reasons why. The first to consider is the intellectual background of Chartrian thought. Classical writers, originating before the authors in this study, conceived of craft or techne as not just an activity, but a form of knowledge. Plato, for example, in the Gorgias, associated techne with logoi (the latter refers words, speech and reason.) Meanwhile, Aristotle said techne is ‘not strictly activity, but it is a capacity for action, founded in a special kind of knowledge.’ It is evident that even from an early stage techne or craft was associated with the pursuit of knowledge. Therefore, it comes as no surprise that philosophical fields, like ethics and metaphysics, are often associated with craft. Craft was more than just a making activity, it was a form of philosophical reflection and thought. If classical authors paved the way for Chartrian thought, we must also accept the contribution of the also twelfth-century Hugh of St Victor. Hugh, in his Didiscalion, places the seven mechanical arts alongside the other theoretical and practical arts. Mechanical arts, like fabric-making and armament, go alongside the arts found in other categories, like theology and mathematics, in Hugh’s scheme. This means he sees craft as important philosophically. With this train of thought in mind, it is possible to see how craft became increasingly associated with philosophy around the time of Alan of Lille and Bernardus Silvestris. A final intellectual factor worth considering is that the Chartrians wrote in the midst of the twelfth century renaissance. This period saw an explosion of scholarly and literary activity. One form of writing that became more predominant was poetry. Chenu writes ‘curiosity about literature, together with all its apparatus, is ever able to serve the discovery of nature and man.’ This means that poetry, like Anticlaudianus and the Cosmographia¸ increasingly became accepted as a way of exploring metaphysical and ethical truths about the world. Considering the rise of philosophical poetry, it is easier to see why Alan and Bernardus’ works are so interrogative of ethics and metaphysics. This, considered alongside the other intellectual factors, accelerates our understanding of why craft as a literary device might have been used as a way to explore ethical and metaphysical truths.
The second reason why craft was often chosen to link metaphysics and ethics derives from the significant technological changes Europe was facing before and during when Alan and Bernardus wrote. The so-called ‘Medieval Industrial Revolution’ saw a period of technological development starting from the ninth century onwards. New technologies, like the appropriation of water power, made significant changes in daily life for medieval society. Technology became more predominant throughout the medieval European world and affected crafting activities, like smithing, through water-powered tools like hammers. With crafting therefore becoming more ominous and present in the medieval landscape, it is easy to see why the Chartrians integrated it into their thinking. They could hardly ignore the changes and their philosophical implications. The ‘Medieval Industrial Revolution’ therefore forms another reason why craft, ethics and metaphysics were often linked together.
I have now explained why craft was often chosen to link metaphysics and ethics. I will now, using the insights from the first two sections, argue that the medieval view of craft as ethical and metaphysical forcers us to reconsider its role in modern society. I will now offer a manifesto that argues for the renewed philosophical significance of craft. This is not, however, the first paper to explore the philosophical implications of craft. Langland, for example, connects crafting to knowledge. He writes ‘when we made things, we accumulated a certain kind of knowledge, we had an awareness and an understanding of how materials worked and how the human form has evolved to create from them.’ Sennett, meanwhile, argues that craft can provide insight into the techniques of experience that can shape our dealings with others.’ This paper agrees with these philosophical ideas, but argues that medieval thinking provides additional insights. The most important thing the medieval view of craft tells us is that metaphysics and ethics are interrelated even today. Too often we fall into narrow specialisation and miss connections between different areas. Craft, because it shapes the person doing it as much as the world, can help us examine life in the full. It is a way of exploring fundamental truths of the world, just as the Chartrians used it to explore their own truths. Secondly, craft allows us to change things. For the Chartrians, this was changing matter and the form of objects, but it also has ethical and metaphysical implications. Through craft man can make changes to the world therefore adding or subtracting to its ethical or metaphysical constitution. Finally, craft allows us link the theoretical to the practical. It allows us to connect high-minded ideas and how they might link to the practical world. When we talk about craft, we cannot escape its practicality, even when discussing it philosophically. To summarise, craft is of philosophical significance because it allows us to examine truths, because it can make changes to the world and because it allows us to connect the practical and theoretical together.
This essay has explored how craft links metaphysics and ethics together in Bernardus Silvestris’ Cosmographia, Alan of Lille’s Anticlaudianus and Calcidius’ On Plato’s Timaeus. It did this in three sections. The first explored how craft connects the two philosophical fields together. The second asked why craft was often chosen to do this. The final section offered an an argument for the seeing craft as philosophically important today. Future research could examine the last point in more detail. It could be interesting to compare the medieval and modern philosophical approaches to craft to see if they can engage in dialogue with each other. Furthermore, it could also be possible to examine philosophical fields other than ethics and metaphysics, to see if the use of craft extends to more of medieval philosophy. A final area of research could examine a higher frequency of sources. The whole of the Chartrian corpus and the texts it contains could be examined to analyse the extent craft is used in medieval Neoplatonic thought. Nevertheless, despite these potential areas of research, it is now clear that ethics and metaphysics in Chartrian thought and Calcidius are linked together by the use of craft as a literary device.
Bibliography
Primary Sources
Alan of Lille, Anticlaudianus in Alan of Lille: Anticlaudianus or The Good and Perfect Man translated by James. J Sheridan. Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, 1973.
Bernardus Silvestris, Cosmographia in Poetic Works: Bernardus Silvestris translated by Winthrop Wetherbee. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2015.
Calcidius, On Plato’s Timaeus in On Plato’s Timaeus: Calcidius translated by John Magee. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2016.
Hugh of St Victor, Didascalion in The Didascalion of Hugh of St Victor: A Medieval Guide to the Arts translated by James Taylor. New York: Columbia University Press, 1961.
Secondary Sources
Chenu, Marie-Dominique. “Nature and Man: The Renaissance of the Twelfth Century.” In Nature, Man and Society in The Twelfth Century: Essays on New Theological Perspectives in The Latin West edited by Jerome Taylor and Lester K. Little, 1-48. Toronto: Toronto University Press, 1997.
Dutton, Paul E. “Medieval Approaches to Calcidius.” In Plato’s Timaeus as Cultural Icon, edited by Gretchen J. Reydams-Schils, 183-205. Notre Dame: Notre Dame University Press, 2003.
Langland, Alex. Craeft: How Traditional Crafts Are About More Than Just Making. London: Faber and Faber, 2017.
Mitcham, Carl. Thinking Through Technology: The Path Between Engineering and Philosophy. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994.
Sennett, Richard. The Craftsman. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2008.
Truitt, Elly R. Medieval Robots: Mechanism, Magic, Nature and Art. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2015.
Wetherbee, Winthrop. Platonism and Poetry in the Twelfth Century: The Literary Influence of The School of Chartres. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1972
This post looks at how to define ‘complexity’ and particular its close relationship to the way we think. The 2008 translation of some of Edgar Morin’s essays in ‘On Complexity’ shall serve as the focal point for my discussion.
What is complexity and what is complex thinking? The best way is to understand it is to compare it to its cousin; systems thinking. Anderson and Johnson (1997) identify five features of systems thinking.
Think of the big picture.
Balance short-term and long-term perspectives.
Recognise the dynamic, complex and and interdependent nature of systems.
Take into account measurable and non-measurable factors.
Remember we are part of the systems.
Morin’s oeuvre says ‘complexity is a fabric (complexus: that is woven together) of heterogenous constituents that are inseparably associated: complexity poses the paradox of the one and the many. Next complexity is in fact the the fabric of events, actions, interactions, retroactions, determinations and chance that constitute our phenomenal world. But complexity presents itself with the disturbing traits of a mess, of the inextricable, of disorder, of ambiguity, of uncertainty’ There is a lot to decipher and discuss here. Firstly, it seems, like systems thinking, to highlight dynamism. ‘Events, actions, interactions, retroactions, determinations and chance’ all suggest a movement away from a static worldview. Yet, there are a number of differences in Morin’s complex thinking. Firstly, look at the mention of ‘uncertainty’. Some systems thinkers and indeed complexity theorists search for laws. For example, there is the Sante Fe Institute’s approach to history and its search for the laws that determine the history of the universe (Krakauer, Gaddis, Pomeranz, 2017) or consider Barabasi’s (2002) look at laws in complex networks. One does not sense this approach in Morin. He states ‘complexity coincides with a part of uncertainty that arises from the limits of our ability to comprehend, or with a part of uncertainty inscribed in phenomena. But complexity cannot be reduced to uncertainty; it is uncertainty at the at the heart of richly organised systems.’ There are two things to notice, the focus on uncertain dynamics and the paradoxical nature of what Morin is saying; there is organisation and uncertainty in systems.
Paradoxes are at the heart of ‘complex thinking’. The mention of ambiguity in the first quote supports this, but this is confirmed by Morin’s tackling of organisation and disorder. He states ‘that disorder and order, although enemies, cooperate in a certain way to organise the universe.’ One example he cites in none other than the formation of the Universe, the Big Bang was a ‘giant deflagration’ and ‘the universe began as disintegration and in disintegrating, it organised itself.’ Organisation/disorganisation are therefore not two opposing forces. Kelso (2009) has provided a framework for understanding the interactions between organisation and disorganisation through his coordination dynamics. In short, coordination dynamics looks at how coordination works in living things, and because of this how their coordinated patterns adapt, persist and change. One concept within coordination dynamics is metastability, this helps us understand how a system may neither be organised or disorganised. Kelso (2009) suggests metastability is a state where stable coordination states no longer exist, but attraction remains to where the fixed points used to be. This leads to a flow of phase-scattering and phase-trapping. In other words, there is a mixture of repulsion and gathering within the system.
Morin is, of course, not the first thinker to emphasise ambiguity. Basarab Nicolescu (2016), for example, speaks of ‘The Hidden Third’ and also ‘the infintie ambiguity of the binary thought.’ Nicolescu, like Morin, is a transdisciplinarian and so it is notable to see this convergence on opinion. Derrida (1977) has the idea of Différance, this also implies ambiguity, except in language, by suggesting a word never fully summons its meaning due to its interplay with other words. My point here being that Morin is not alone in theorising states of contradiction, of paradox and ultimately of ambiguity. This nevertheless does not lessen the impact of his work, especially given his application of it to systems.
What does ‘complex thinking’ mean practically? Morin (2014), in an article, announces his surprise at how researchers investigate complex systems. Apparently, ‘they study complex systems with uncertainty, randomness, chaos theory, but they don’t change their mind, they don’t change the structure of their worldview, but in fact they need to undergo a paradigmatic change.’ So how would this changed worldview affect us? Morin, in On Complexity, describes action as a wager and in a wager there is always ‘an awareness of risk and of uncertainty.’ He suggests we adopt a strategy, but this ‘does not mean a predetermined program we can apply.’ Rather, it envisages ‘a certain number of scenarios of action, scenarios that can be modified according to information arriving in the action, and according to chance occurrences that will occur and disrupt the action.’ The best comparison to complex strategy and thought can perhaps be found in software development and project management. ‘Agile’, as a development or management strategy, suggests managers should ‘have flexibility in a project system in order to be able to adjust constantly to emerging challenges and opportunities.’ and that such thinking can aid the tackling of ‘complex and uncertain project situations (Fernandez and Fernandez, 2008). This sounds an awful lot like Morin’s complex thought. In fact, one comparison can be found in ‘Agile’ and Morin’s examination of nonlinearity. Morin writes ‘as soon as an individual takes an action, whatever that action may be, it begins to escape from his intentions. The action enters the universe of interactions.’ One technique in Agile is the use of feedback to affect project or product development, with the service also being delivered incrementally (Dybå, Dingsøyr and Moe, 2014). This means development/management is affected by feedback that goes back and affects the system and the way it does this is inherently unpredictable. ‘Agile’ and ‘Complex Thought’ therefore have some similarities in the approach they take.
Talking about project management/development brings me to another pertinent point. Teams themselves are dependent on coordination dynamics and the way they coordinate affects how effective they perform. Gorman, Polemnia and Cooke (2010) suggests, while discussing surgical teams, that ‘if the surgical team always coordinates in a static, unchanging fashion, regardless of how appropriate it is for a particular situation, then the result is potentially fatal.’ Again, this seems indicate a need for Morin’s ‘complex thinking’, one that adjusts to a situation, like a surgical team should to save lives. This all suggests coordination dynamics, ‘complex thinking’ and teamwork should all work together to tackle the complex problems found in the modern world.
In this post, I have discussed Edgar Morin’s ‘On Complexity’. The point to emphasise in his work is that it is not enough to recognise complex problems, but we must find a way to deal with them. Morin believes this can be done through by being adaptable and changing the way you think; whether this is through identifying how organisation/disorganisation are not always opposites or through adapting a strategy consisting of multiple scenarios. Morin therefore calls for a major shift in how we not only think, but also act.
Bibliography:
Anderson, Virginia and Lauren Johnson. Systems thinking basics. Cambridge, MA: Pegasus Communications, 1997.
Barabasi. Albert L. Linked: How Everything is Connected to Everything Else and What It Means for Business, Science and Everyday Life. New York: Perseus Publishing, 2002
Derrida, Jacques. Of Grammatology translated by Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak. Baltimore: The John Hopkins University Press 1977.
Dybå, Tore, Torgeir Dingsøyr, and Nils Brede Moe. “Agile project management.” In Software project management in a changing world, pp. 277-300. Springer, Berlin, Heidelberg, 2014
Fernandez, Daniel J and John D. Fernandez. “Agile project management—agilism versus traditional approaches.” Journal of Computer Information Systems 49, no. 2 (2008): 10-17.
Gorman, Jamie C, Polemnia G. Amazeen, and Nancy J. Cooke. “Team coordination dynamics.” Nonlinear dynamics, psychology, and life sciences 14, no. 3 (2010): 265
This post contains an MA essay that touches on transdisciplinarity, through arguing Indian Ocean trade networks can be seen as complex.
Introduction
It is becoming increasingly common to think of the Middle Ages as global. The fact that Past and Present dedicated an entire issue to the topic in 2018 (Holmes & Standen, 2018) shows how popular an approach it is becoming. Two concepts and structures often invoked when analysing the Global Middle Ages are the idea of a ‘world system’ and also networks (Abu-Lughod, 1991) (Shepard, 2018). This paper shall analyse the extent to which these two concepts can engage in meaningful dialogue with each other. In particular, it will look at if complex network theory can alter our understanding of the medieval world system. It will do this by looking at if a network of the Indian Ocean world compiled by the author can be described as complex. A network is a series of nodes connected by edges, the features that make a network complex will be explained in the results section. This is not the first paper to apply complex network theory to the Middle Ages, Sindbaek (2007) has applied it successfully to the Viking world. However, this shall be the first attempt to apply it to the early medieval Indian Ocean world. The central thrust behind this paper is that if we can talk of the early medieval Viking and Indian Ocean worlds as both complex, then can we talk about the world system in its entirety as a complex system? The idea of a ‘world system’ was first introduced to the Middle Ages by Abu-Lughod (1991). It describes how the world is connected through different interacting circuits and parts forming a system of exchange. For Abu-Lughod, this system emerged in the thirteenth century, but as will become clear it was present much earlier. Some authors have hinted at the possibility of the medieval world system being viewed as a complex, Dudbridge (2018, pp. 314-315) raises the possibility of using systems biology to understand the world system. However, no systematic attempt has been made to fully analyse the possibility of making a connection between complex network theory and the medieval world system. This paper shall attempt to do this.
It will do this in three sections. The first section will outline the methodology employed for this essay, it will look at how the network analysis was carried out and will examine its limitations. The second section will include the results of the analysis and will examine if the compiled network can be described as a complex network. The final section shall discuss the implications of the results for understanding the world system. The essay shall conclude with a radical call for transdisciplinarity to increase our understanding of the world system.
Methodology
It is now necessary to outline how the network analysis was conducted. The data was collected from five articles. These were chosen through a search of Web of Science using the terms ‘medieval Indian Ocean trade’ and ‘medieval Indian Ocean world.’ Some articles were filtered out and not chosen for data entry. This was usually because they did not fit the temporal limits of the essay, 500-1000, or because they were irrelevant to the topic. It should highlighted that this study is only an preliminary endeavour and so should not be considered comprehensive. Further research will need to be conducted to verify the findings of this essay. The data was entered into Microsoft Excel (Microsoft, 2021). It was put into a nodes table, with each node representing a location from the article, and a source-target table which had the connections between the different places. Appendix A lists the locations in the network and the articles they were taken from. A connection was established if a location shared archaeological material with another. If an article cited literary evidence this was ignored. This is primarily an archaeological paper. Once the tables were complete the data was imported into Gephi (The Gephi Consortium, 2017). Gephi is a network visualisation and analysis computer programme. The statistics used in the results section of this essay derived from this programme. There were a total of 54 nodes in the network and 112 edges. Figure 1 shows the network compiled by the above methodology. Having outlined the methodology of this paper, it is now necessary to proceed and list more limitations of this essay.
Figure 1: Screenshot of Network (Data from author’s own work)
There are two types of limiting factors with regards to what this study can tell us. The first concerns the limitations of the network analysis itself. One limitation is the fact that this essay only contains data from 500-1000. This temporal framework was chosen for two reasons. Firstly, to make sure sites which are from different parts of medieval era are not erroneously seen as connected when in fact they are from a different time. Secondly, to allow a more direct comparison with Sindbaek’s (2007) study of how complex networks apply to the early medieval Northern Europe. A second factor to consider is that some of the nodes are more vague than others. Some articles offered specific locations such as ‘Unguja Ukuu’, while others were more broad and named modern countries such as ‘China’ and ‘India’. The latter were still included in the essay, as to avoid missing too many connections. A further factor to consider is that a connection between two places does not mean they had constant or instantaneous contact. Travel between different parts of the Indian Ocean, even in the later twelfth and thirteenth centuries, could take up to six months (Abu Lughod, 1991, p. 16). Finally, the network created for this essay is static, the data was not precise enough to create a dynamic graph. This makes it harder to analyse change over time. With the limitations of the network analysis considered, it is now worth considering some of the limitations of the material evidence.
The first factor to consider, with regards to the evidence, is that the material presented here only represents the movement of physical material objects. It does not consider how ideas spread across the Indian Ocean or how ideas are connected to objects. Secondly, we must also accept the fact that the presence of evidence in two sites does not necessarily mean that two places are connected. It does, however, indicate an increased likelihood of them being connected or at least that they were part of the same system of exchange. Finally, the evidence used in this essay derives from a variety of material forms, including, but not limited to, ceramics, glass and ship materials. There is not space here to go into depth about each evidence type here, but it is hoped the last two paragraphs have raised some of the associated methodological and evidence-based issues that limited this study. This finishes the methodology section of the essay.
Results
Having outlined the methodology of the essay and the pertinent limitations, the paper will now proceed to present the results of the network analysis. It will do this in four subsections which will cover different features of complex networks. Each subsection will examine if the compiled network of the Indian Ocean has these features. This will help to reveal if the early medieval Indian Ocean can be seen as complex and subsequently, in the discussion section, help us to analyse whether the world system can be described as complex.
The first feature complex networks are generally considered to have is a ‘small world’ effect. A ‘small world’ effect refers to the fact that there is generally a small path between any two nodes (Albert & Barabasi, 2002, p. 2) (Newman, 2003, p. 181) (Strogatz, 2001, p. 278). The most famous example derives from the concept of ‘six degrees of separation’. This idea suggests that there is on average people are separated from each other by six people. Meanwhile, Barabasi (2002, pp. 34-39) has suggested there are on average nineteenth degrees of separation between web pages. There are several statistics which help us to identify if the Indian Ocean world can be seen as a ‘small world’ like the World Wide Web or social contacts. The first is the average path length. This was 2.7330538085255065. This is far lower than 6 or 19 and so it is fair to say that the network in this study can be described as having a ‘small world’ effect. Further evidence confirms this. The closeness centrality of each node, which calculates the distance from a giving starting node to all other nodes in the network, is shown in figure 2. The x-axis displays the distance to all other nodes in the network for each node, whereas the y-axis shows the number of nodes with a particular distance. The closeness centrality for each node is between 0 and 1 indicating that there is on average less than one connection between one node to all other nodes in the network. This shows that the data has a ‘small world’ effect. To summarise, it is clear from this that the Indian Ocean was a ‘small world’ and that it has at least one feature of a complex network. However, it remains to be seen if it has the other features complex networks have.
Figure 2: Closeness Centrality Distribution (Data from author’s own work)
The second feature that complex networks tend to have is clustering. This is the tendency for nodes to form into split groups or as Newman (2003, p 183.) puts it the friend of your friend is likely to be your friend. The first statistic worth analysing is the average clustering coefficient. This metric is on a scale of 0 to 1, with a higher score indicating that individuals tend to be found in groups. The average clustering coefficient for the network was 0.425. This seems to indicate that clustering is not that apparent in the network and raises questions about the Indian Ocean world having this characteristic of a complex network. However, two pieces of evidence suggest that the average clustering coefficient does not tell the whole story. The first is the number of triangles in the network which was 52. This statistic indicates the extent nodes form into groups of 3, in which each node is connected to every other node. The score presented here suggests there are a high amount of communities in the network and is therefore evidence of clustering. A modularity algorithm (Blondel, Guillaume, Lambiotte & Lefebvre, 2008) was also ran on the network. This detected a different number of communities to the triangle measurement. Overall, it identified a total of six communities. Figure 3 displays each community in a different colour. While 6 communities does not seem much, we must remember that there are 54 nodes in the network and so there is around 9 people per group. Small group sizes, such as these, indicate the presence of clustering in the network, even if the average clustering coefficient seems at odd with this. Furthermore, it is possible that the average clustering coefficient is only so low because of the high degree of connectivity in the network, which itself is a sign of a complex network. Regardless, it can be said tentatively that there is evidence of clustering in the network and that it has this feature of complexity.
Figure 3: Modularity Class of Nodes (Data from author’s own work)
The third feature that complex networks have is that the degree distribution (how many edges a node has) tends to follow a power-law (Barabasi & Albert 1999). Networks with such a feature are called scale-free (Strogatz, 2001, p. 214). In such networks, there tend to be some nodes which are more highly connected than others. Figure 4 shows the degree distribution of the Indian Ocean network. The x-axis represents the degree of nodes, whereas the y-axis indicates the count of nodes with a particular degree. As the data shows, there are 16 nodes with a degree of 1, whereas there are only 3 nodes with a degree of 7 and 1 node with a degree of 22. Overall, there does seem to be some nodes which are more highly connected than others. The graph also shows a decay, which is central to it being scale free, there seem to be a few nodes with a high degree and many with a low degree. Nevertheless, a comparison of figure 4 and figure 5 complicates the issue. Figure 5 portrays four real world networks. In figure 5 we see the decay for each graph is more steady than in figure 4. In figure 4, we also see a sudden drop from 15 nodes having a degree of 2 to 2 nodes having a degree of 3. This decline is much more rapid than in other networks which are termed complex (see figure 5). Furthermore, the count of nodes also increases again for having a degree of 4 and 5. There were five nodes with a degree of 4 and 5. This increase goes against the continuous decline we see in the real world networks of figure 5. This would seem to indicate that the degree distribution of the network is only partly scale-free and that there are some anomalous results in the network. Nevertheless, there does seem to be a general decline in figure 4, even if it is not straight forward. It should also be noted that the scale-free property is common but not universal to complex networks (Strogatz, 2001, p. 219). With this and the general decay in the results took into consideration, it appears that would be wrong to dismiss the possibility of the network being complex based on the data.
Figure 4: Degree Distribution of Network (Data from author’s own work)
Figure 5: Degree Distributions of Real World Networks (Strogatz, 2001, p. 273)
The final feature complex networks tend to have relates to their robustness against attacks. Many complex systems display a degree of tolerance against errors, if the attacks are random. Meanwhile, if the attack is targeted at the hubs (the most connected nodes) the network tends to be vulnerable (Albert & Barabasi, 2002, p. 44). To analyse whether the Indian Ocean network has these features, this paper will use the technique of removing nodes randomly and then compare this to taking them away based on their centrality measures (Iyer, Killingback, Sundaram & Wang, 2013). Figure 6 shows what happened when five nodes were removed randomly. A glance at the figure reveals that for the most part the graph remained highly connected. There was only one community that was completely isolated from the rest of the network (see bottom of figure). This indicates, for the most part, that the network displays resilience against random attacks, The next step in examining the network’s robustness was to remove five of the most prominent nodes. The five nodes with the highest closeness centrality were chosen to be removed. This simulates the removal of the hubs of the network. Figure 7 shows the network with the key nodes removed. In comparison to the results from figure 6, it is clear that many more nodes are isolated and cut off from the main network. This indicates that the network has the robustness characteristic of complex networks- a strong defence against random attacks, but a weakness against attacks on the hubs. Therefore, the network has another feature that complex networks have.
Figure 6: Graph with Random Node Removal (Data from author’s own work)
Figure 7: Graph with Selective Node Removal (Data from author’s own work) Discussion
The network compiled for this essay displays the four main features of complex networks suggesting that the Indian Ocean can be seen as a complex network. This section will examine how these four features of a complex network alter our understanding of the world system. However, it is first necessary to establish a connection between the Indian Ocean network and the world system. The way to do this is to remphasise Sindbaek (2007) has already proven the Northern Europe can be seen as a complex network. This, alongside with the Indian Ocean being seen as a complex network, suggests a good part of the early medieval world can be seen as complex. Critics could raise that there might have existed two isolated complex networks rather than a single unified world system. However, when we take into consideration that world systems theory allows for different circuits or spheres that overlap with each other the possibility of a single world system with complex features seems more plausbile. Abu-Lughod (1991, p. 33) with reference to a later timeframe, divides the world system into three main parts: Western Europe, the Middle East and the Far East We can do the same for the early medieval world and suggest Northern Europe and the Indian Ocean formed different circuits of the same world system. To phrase it differently, there existed a network of networks. This does not mean the Indian Ocean and Northern Europe were directly connected, but it does suggest that what happened in one of these spheres might have had direct cosequences in another. As Abu-Lughod (1991, p. 32), puts it ‘no world system is global, in the sense that all parts articulate evenly with one another.’ Nevertheless, there were also a number of nodes in the netwok, such as Fusat and Antioch, which suggest the connections the Indian Ocean had went beyond its own sphere, even if the majority of connections took place within its own limits. Further research could confirm these findings, the study of different parts of the Africa and Eurasia and their connections, could make the presence of a world system more clear. This would especially be true if there was an emphasis on transconintental connections. Regardless, it now seems plausbile to put forward a pleminary thesis that there was an early medieval world system and that it was complex.
With a connection between the complex networks and the world system established, it remains to see how the features of a complex network might alter our understanding of the world system. The first feature to discuss is the ‘small world’ effect. Different spheres of the world system likely had, as Sindbaek (2007, p. 61) and this paper have proven, a ‘small world’ effect. The Indian Ocean and Northern Europe were both small worlds. This would seem to indicate that different spheres of the world system had high levels of connectivity within them, even if there were not many connections between different spheres. This emphasises the importance of viewing the world system as composed of different parts as Abu-Lughod (1991, p. 33) and Beaujard and Fee (2005, p. 43) have suggested.
The presence of clustering in the Indian Ocean and Viking world networks further emphasise the need to view the world system as composed of many small groups forming a wider system. Much of the network, even within spheres, was clustered. Therefore, like above, we need to stop thinking of the world system as distant parts connecting instantaneously, but to view it as an intricate web of smaller pieces joining together to form a wider system. This again highlights the need to view the world system as smaller pieces joining together.
The last two features that needs to be discussed is degree distribution and robustness. The Indian Ocean network had a few nodes with really high connections and many with few connections. This suggests we need to view the world system as composed of hubs facilitating connections between different parts of the world. The implications of this are clear, if the hubs were attacked, then the connections between different parts of the world system would mostly fail. The early medieval world system was therefore vulnerable if a certain city or location that was key was attacked or cut off by other means. Nevertheless, random attacks would not have harmed it much. Regardless, the levels of robustness the world system had is now clear.
To summarise, the Indian Ocean network and Sindbaek’s (2007) Viking network clarify our understanding of the world system in several ways. Firstly, they remphasise the need to view it as composed of many small interwoven pieces. Secondly, they highlight the general robustness of the world system, even if it was vulnerable to attacks on its hubs. These are the two main ways in which complex network theory alters our understanding of the world system.
Conclusion
This paper has proven that the Indian Ocean from 500-1000 was a complex network and consequentially shown that the world system from this period also displayed features of complexity. It did this in three sections. The first introduced the methodology of the essay, in particular it discussed how the network analysis was carried out and highligted some of the limitations of the essay. The second section looked at the results of the network analysis, it concluded that the Indian Ocean network mostly had features of a complex network. The final section took forward these findings and suggested how they might alter our understanding of the world system.
However, this project is just the beginning. Further research is needed. More parts of the world need analysing and transphere analysis needs to be conducted. Furthermore, there are many complex networks in the world, not just systems of exchange. Cells are complex networks of chemicals, the Internet is a complex network of computers and routers. Likewise, the movie industry is a complex network of actors, while language is a network of words (Albert & Barabasi, 2002, pp. 49-54). A radical transdisciplinary approach is therefore required to increase our understanding of the world system, as it shares many of the same features as networks from other disciplines. This paper therefore ends with a call to arms to break disciplinary boundaries, so we might increase our understanding of the world system. As we now know the early medieval world system was complex, we need to see how other disciplines might inform our discussion of it. Regardless, this paper has proven that the early medieval Indian Ocean was a complex system and, along with the work of Sindbaek (2007), has shown that the medieval world system itself was a complex network, even if further research is needed to verify the findings of this preliminary study.
Appendix A: List of Sites and Articles They Were Taken From
Tumbe
(LaViolette and Fleisher, 2013)
Manda
(LaViolette and Fleisher, 2013)
Unguja Ukuu
(LaViolette and Fleisher, 2013) (Flecker, 2001) (Pollard and Kinyera, 2017)
Kilwa
(LaViolette and Fleisher, 2013) (Pollard and Kinyera,2017)
Shanga
(LaViolette and Fleisher, 2013)
Sasanian- Islamic
(LaViolette and Fleisher, 2013) (Pollard and Kinyera, 2017)
Siraf
(LaViolette and Fleisher, 2013) (Flecker, 2001) (Pollard and Kinyera, 2017)
China
(LaViolette and Fleisher, 2013) (Flecker, 2001)
Comoros
(LaViolette and Fleisher, 2013) (Flecker, 2001)
Belitung
(Flecker, 2001)
Changsha
(Flecker, 2001)
Yue
(Flecker, 2001)
India
(Flecker, 2001)
Yangzhou
(Flecker, 2001)
Southeast Asia
(Flecker, 2001)
Sri Lanka
(Flecker, 2001)
Indus Valley
(Flecker, 2001)
Persian Gulf
(Flecker, 2001)
Red Sea
(Flecker, 2001)
Samarra
(Flecker, 2001)
Nishur
(Flecker, 2001)
Fusat
(Flecker, 2001) (Pollard and Kinyera, 2017)
Antioch
(Flecker, 2001)
Sohar
(Flecker, 2001)
Palembang
(Flecker, 2001)
Prambanan Temple
(Flecker, 2001)
Laem Pho
(Flecker, 2001)
Ko Kho Khao
(Flecker, 2001)
Bagamoyo
(Pollard and Kinyera, 2017)
Aydhab
(Pollard and Kinyera, 2017)
Chibuene
(Pollard and Kinyera, 2017) (Pollard, Duarte and Duarte, 2018)
Lamu
(Pollard and Kinyera, 2017)
Madagascar
(Pollard and Kinyera, 2017)
Kharg Island
(Pollard and Kinyera, 2017)
Fukuchani
(Pollard and Kinyera, 2017)
Ras Hufan
(Pollard and Kinyera, 2017)
Egypt
(Pollard and Kinyera, 2017)
Susa
(Pollard and Kinyera, 2017)
Tell Abu Sarifa
(Pollard and Kinyera, 2017)
Zimbabwe
(Pollard and Kinyera, 2017)
Botswana
(Pollard and Kinyera, 2017)
South Africa
(Pollard and Kinyera, 2017)
Maganbani
(Pollard and Kinyera, 2017)
Kaole Village
(Pollard and Kinyera, 2017)
Mso Bay
(Pollard and Kinyera, 2017)
Mikumbi
(Pollard and Kinyera, 2017)
Jiwe la Jahazi
(Pollard and Kinyera, 2017)
Namakuli
(Pollard, Duarte and Duarte, 2018)
Nhanluqui
(Pollard, Duarte and Duarte, 2018)
Manda
(Zhao, 2015)
Fanchang
(Zhao, 2015)
Dembeni
(Zhao, 2015)
Mogadishu
(Zhao, 2015)
Mteza
(Zhao, 2015)
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Beaujard, P and Fee, S. (2005). The Indian Ocean in Eurasian and African World-Systems Before the Sixteenth Century. Journal of World History, 16 (4), 411-465. [Online]. Available at https://www.jstor.org/stable/20079346?seq=1 [Accessed 27 April 2021].
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Zhao, B. ( 2015). La Céramique Chinoise Importée En Afrique Orientale (IXe-XVIe Siècles): Un Cas De Changement De Valeur Marchande Et Symbolique Dans Le Commerce Global. Afriques : Débats, Méthodes Et Terrains D’histoire, 6 (6). [Online]. Available at https://apps.webofknowledge.com/full_record.do?product=WOS&search_mode=GeneralSear ch&qid=3&SID=F6rExvv3Eev1VGwdOwG&page=3&doc=28. [Accessed 27 April 2021].
This review is a post about transdisciplinarity and its various manifestations in the poetic theorems of Basarab Nicolescutitled ‘The Hidden Third’. Transdisciplinarity, in the Nicolescu sense, consists of several layers that challenge our normal way of thinking. I hope to evoke some of the complexity of his thought through this exploratory post.
Transdisciplinarity means to ‘go above and beyond’ disciplinary and institutional boundaries to tackle complex problems through creating a holistic solution. The most obvious way in which Nicolescu is transdisciplinary is that this text is poetic, metaphysical and even scientific. Perhaps, that poetry can be philosophical is not the most controversial theory, for example the Argentine poet Roberto Juarroz (1992) often tackles metaphysics:
The poem is always celebration because it is always the extreme intensity of a chunk of the world.
(Juarroz 1992)
Juarroz and indeed Nicolescu are meta-poetic, they write poetry about poetry. But their poetry is always philosophical. Nicolescu crosses poetry with science in particular, with a focus on quantum physics. He writes:
Is the quantum imagination a unique example of the poetic imagination or the poetic imagination a unique example of the quantum imagination? There is, as always, a third possibility: the poetic imagination is none other than the quantum imagination
(Nicolescu, 2016)
What we have here is Nicolescu at his transdisciplinary finest, he is essentially questioning which has primacy, the poetic or quantum before deciding that they are one and the same. This is not the only instance of this form of transdisciplinarity, he later says:
Poetry is the highest quantum approach in the world. Quantum mechanics depicts the mechanics of the universe, whereas poetry reveals its dynamic secrets
(Nicolescu, 2016)
I could go on giving examples of this combination of poetry and physics, yet there is a further point which needs to elaborated from the meta-poetic scientific, namely that creativity plays a pivotal role in not only science, but also in transdisciplinarity. This is evident in (Guyotte, et al. 2014), who describe the intersections of art and science in the Transdisciplinary Design Studio, which tackled complex issues, like water ethics through artistic displays and scientific research. Art and science are not separate, they can both tackle problems through creative thinking and creative making. To elaborate this point, I draw on two medieval thinkers who tackle craft and metaphysics; Alan of Lille and Bernardus Silvestris. Alan of Lille (1200s) writes about how Nature (an allegorisation) tries to create the perfect man with all flaws removed, along the way we hear metaphors of craft such as ‘ ‘the divine mind imprinted form on things and shape on the universe’. We even have a section where Alan compares painting to creation, he writes painting ‘turns the shadows of things into things and changes every lie to truth’. Bernardus Silvestris in his Comsographia similarly tackles medieval science, metaphysics and craft. Silvestris’ (1100s) work describes the creation of the world and man, for example it says ‘quicken what is inert, control what moves at random, impose shape and bestow splendor’ on matter. This gives an indication that even since the medieval period, that science, philosophy and art have not only been linked but also have tackled questions that intrigue and present themselves to us, through creativity (in thinking and making, even if just metaphorical in the latter instance). Transdisciplinarity is therefore not new, yet Nicolescu is aware of his heritage, for example he describes the Late Antique thinker John of the Ladder and his multiple levels of being and how these relate to his idea of multiple levels of reality (Nicolescu, 2012).
This idea of levels of reality is crucial to Nicolescu’s thought and features in the The Hidden Third. For example, he writes:
Each level of reality is associated with a very specific local causality. Thus miracles become possible, if not very probable.
(Nicolescu, 2016)
The Hidden Third does not provide the best exposition of the multiple levels of reality, its metaphysical and transdisciplinary genius lies elsewhere (the other themes mentioned in this review). Instead, we find his logical axioms elsewhere. He (Nicolescu, 2006) describes them as:
The ontological axiom: There are many levels of reality and perception.
The logical axiom: passing from one reality to another is insured by the included middle (the hidden third).
The complexity axiom: the totality of all levels is a complex structure.
Of course, these themes are not absent in The Hidden Third, they are presented in a more eloquent yet less precise manner. Perhaps, this is the intention because of the importance of ambiguity implied by The Hidden Third. Nicolescu writes.
The so current confusion between the included middle and ambiguity is engendered by the infinite ambiguity of the binary thought.
(Nicolescu, 2016)
The Hidden Third is neither present nor absent, for example Nicolescu states
Echoes at all level of reality- the birth of the hidden third.’
(Nicolescu, 2016)
The Hidden Third is what connects realities (and I take disciplines as well to be levels of reality). When we observe a reality the presence of others ‘haunts’ it due to the power of the Third. Nicolescu’s transdisciplinarity is thus very metaphysical it presents axioms which describe reality, before discussing the role of The Hidden Third. Contrast this to the epistemic transdisciplinarity of Nowotny, Scott and Gibbons (2003) They present multiple propositions under what they call ‘Mode 2’ science. For them, knowledge is distributed amongst people that are outside the university as well as in, peers go beyond just the academic communities to a larger stakeholder group, knowledge is also applied to new contexts and the research process is characterised by dialogue between researchers and subjects. This gives an idea of some of the differences between different approaches to transdisciplinarity.
Nicolescu’s transdisciplinary metaphysics goes beyond the levels of reality and The Hidden Third. He also has a philosophy of movement. In particular, he looks at energy and its movements throughout reality. He states
Energy is a unifying concept: information is a coded form of energy, whereas substance is its visible condensation, which is why any distinction between material and immaterial only rests upon terminological confusion.
(Nicolescu, 2016)
This approach is in contrast to DeLanda’s philosophy of energy. DeLanda argues for a materialism (DeLanda, 2017). In which there are are equilibriums and steady states (despite the presence of change over time). Nicolescu argues
True movement is energy.
(Nicolescu, 2016)
And:
The uselessness of the notion of object: the object is merely a local configuration of energy.
(Nicolescu, 2016)
It seems that energy, for Nicolescu, occupies a more central place, in the constitution of the world than the more steady-energy theory of DeLanda. Energy seems to be another form of transdisciplinarity for Nicolescu because it is ‘omnipresent’ (Nicolescu, 2016) Perhaps, then it is better to compare energy with the ‘Dao’ in Daoism, rather than DeLanda’s philosophy of energy. The Dao flows through all things. The Zhuangzi (no date), an anicent Chinese Text, describes it: ‘ail-embracing and nonpartisan, unstrained and unbiased, unhesitating but without any fixed direction, going forth to things without secondary considerations, ignoring all calculations, uninvolved in any schemes of knowledge, choicelessly moving along with things: these were aspects of the ancient art of the Course (Dao).’ This is perhaps more in alignment with what Nicolescu is thinking, especially with regards to it unifying the mental and the physical.
Yet, for him, there is a further unifying force in the universe, consciousness and it is in this guisethat we find a theology. He states:
There’s a favourable direction for our cosmos: one leading towards a densification of energy, towards unity in diversity, towards an increase in consciousness.
(Nicolescu, 2016)
Nicolescu seems to believe that consciousness will increase, he also says:
The great cosmic unification ought to begin with a very tiny unification that of man himself.
(Nicolescu, 2016)
This language reminds of Olaf Stapledon’s science-fiction novel Starmaker (Stapledon, 1937) in which a man goes on cosmic journey through space and gradually witnesses increases in telepathic consciousness in worlds, galaxies and stars before finally a cosmic mind is formed. Nicolescu seems to be indicating such a ‘unification’ which would start with ‘man himself’. Why is this important, because it highlights Nicolescu’s transdisciplinarity is spiritual, as well as scientific, he sees no problem accommodating these together in his account. The Cosmic mind, like in Starmaker, is separate to God, though God’s presence is certainly felt in the universe.. In fact, Nicolescu dedicates an entire chapter in The Hidden Third to God/Gods. Therefore, he leaves room for a more elaborate theology.
Having explored the various forms in which transdisciplinarity emerges in Nicolescu’s thought, I want to now end by focusing on what he actually says about it in The Hidden Third on a more straight-to-the-point fashion. He argues:
The transdisciplinary era will be an era of translators- those who translate what happens at another level of reality into our own macrophysical language.
(Nicolescu, 2016)
And:
Transdisciplinarity is threatened by premature death: becoming a discipline
(Nicolescu, 2016)
(Nicolescu, 2016)
The first quote implies that the researcher will have to translate various disciplinary languages to create a holistic account. The second implies a danger, but I believe a methodology is a necessary. It may be true theorising about transdisciplinarity is a risk, but it is an inevitable risk that has to be taken.
The Hidden Third is about transdisciplinarity, though it emerges in several ways; such as in creativity, energy and consciousness. This collection of poetic theorems a a joy to read and really challenges the way you think. I therefore end with a recommendation, read it with interest and avoid trepidation, it will certainly challenge the way you think.
Bibliography:
Alan of Lille, Anticlaudianus in Alan of Lille: Anticlaudianus or The Good and Perfect Man translated by James. J Sheridan. Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, 1973.
Bernardus Silvestris, Cosmographia in Poetic Works: Bernardus Silvestris translated by Winthrop Wetherbee. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2015.
Guyotte, Kelly W., Nicki D. Sochhacka, Tracie E. Costantino, Joachim Walther, and Nadia N. Kellam. “STEAM as social practice: Cultivating creativity in transdisciplinary spaces.” Art Education 67, no. 6 (2014): 12-19.
Juarroz, Roberto. Vertical Poetry: Recent Poems translated by Mary Chow. Fredonia: White Pine Press, 1992.
Nicolescu, Basarab. The Hidden Third translated by William Garvin. New York: Quantum Prose, 2016.
Nicolescu, Basarab. “Transdisciplinarity: the hidden third, between the subject and the object.” Human and Social Studies 01 (2012): 13-28.
Nicolescu, Basarab. “Transdisciplinarity: past, present and future.” In Congresso Mundial de, pp. 1-24. 2006.
Nowotny, Helga, Peter Scorr, and Michael Gibbons. “INTRODUCTION: ‘Mode 2’ Revisited: The New Production of Knowledge.” Minerva 41, no. 3 (2003): 179–94.
Stapledon, Olaf. Starmaker. Connecticut: Wesleyan University Press, 2004
Zhuangzi, Zhuangzi in Zhuangzi: The Complete Writings translated by Brook Ziporyn. Indiana: Hackett Publishing Company, 2020.
In this post, I shall explore Husserl’s views on the temporality of consciousness through a reading of ‘The Phenomenology of Internal Time-Consciousness.’ I have previously discussed Husserl’s Cartesian Meditations, but the book for this post focuses specifically on the relationship between time and consciousness.
One theme that occurs throughout the book (though Husserl does not mention it much in this text) is a variety of the epoche or the suspension of belief about the world. Husserl writes ‘our aim is a phenomenological analysis of time-consciousness, involved in this, as in any other such analysis, is the complete exclusion of every assumption, stipulation, or conviction concerning Objective time (of all transcendent presuppositions concerning existents).’ In other words, Husserl is presenting a theory about how time operates in the consciousness and is not talking about time in objective reality.
Husserl uses an analogy about a piece of chalk to elaborate on this point. He suggests if we look at the chalk, then open and close our eyes and look at it again, we have had two perceptions. Phenomenologically speaking, there is a ‘temporal apartness’ between our perceptions, yet the chalk itself has objectively not changed. Husserl states ‘in the object there is duration, in the phenomenon, change.’ Our subjective experience is different to what is objectively occurring, at least in relation to time. This does not, in my opinion, exclude change from the ‘real’ world, but simply states that objects in the world have duration. They change, but not in a blink of an eye. In fact, Husserl hints at this when he argues that lived experiences in an objective sense are ‘temporally determined in an objective sense.’
Yet, we have to remember Husserl’s use of the concept of intentionality, that every stream of consciousness is always directed at an object. Thus, there is always an objective element to how we experience time. Husserl argues ‘we do not encounter temporal characters such as succession and duration merely in the primary content, but also in the Objects apprehended and in the act of apprehension. An analysis of time which is restricted to one level is not adequate, it must rather pursue the continuation of time at all levels.’ This seems initially to contradict with the epoche, but in my view it does not. Just because we suspend beliefs about the real world, does not mean we ignore it in our analysis, after all the objects we experience are ‘in-the world’ even if we experience them differently in the consciousness. The fact there can be multiple levels of time could also raise an issue how can one experience two levels at once. I would borrow from Basarab Nicolescu and his idea of the ‘hidden third’. This suggests paradoxes can exist due to the presence of multiple levels of reality and the ‘hidden third’ which connects all realities, in other words it is possible to experience one object differently at the same time, including temporally.The object is never fully present or absent. This also connects to Jacques Derrida’s idea of Différance, in which a word never fully summons its meaning due to its connections with other words and their interplay. In this way, words and indeed consciousness are always deferred, ‘they have a bit of other words and mental states’ respectively. With this in mind, it is possible to envisage the possibility of plural temporalities existing, perhaps emanating from consciousness and the ‘objective’ world and being experienced at the same time. Paradoxes and contradictions can exist.
Husserl has a very strong interest in the imagination. Methodologically speaking, this involves the technique of imaginary variation to identify the essential characteristics of objects. However, what role does fantasy play when it comes to the temporality of experience? For me, the key point is that it is related to retention (retaining a thought) and protention (the way in which you think the future will go). They are intrinsically related to each other. As Husserl writes ‘on the basis of the appearance of momentary recollections, phantasy forms ideas of the future in a process similar to that through which, circumstances permitting, we arrive at ideas of certain new varieties of colour and sound while keeping to known forms and relations.’ Our imagination is informed by the past and therefore affecting our predictions of the future. If we take the consideration that Husserl is an idealist (debatable, in my opinion, to the strength to which he is), it suggests that future realities are influenced by previous realities. In other words, the admittance that there are multiple realities (i.e Nicolescu or Anderson) does not imply that realities reconfigure overnight, rather change, though fundamental, may occur slowly and past realities will always inform future realities. Another thing to note is that if our realities are affected by our thoughts or imagination, this adds an ethical dimension to our discussion. It is imperative to understand this because it suggests we may be able to alter realities that exist, simply being affects metaphysics. It is therefore possible to enact actual metaphysical change for the better through the way we think.
If consciousness is temporal in its nature, an issue of mereology (concerning wholes and parts) is introduced. If we hear a melody, then how are the past, present and future parts of it linked in consciousness as a whole tune. Husserl states ‘they are in consciousness one after the other, but they fall within the same common act’ and that ‘the tones build up a successive unity with a common effect, the form of apprehension.’ How can they follow one another and yet still be part part of the same act? Husserl argues ‘the objectivity of the whole enduring tone is constituted in an act-continuum which in part is memory, in the smallest punctual part is perception, and in a more extensive part expectation.’ This suggests the tune is one act, because of the role retention and protention play in the present moment. This seems, in my view, to indicate Derrida’s reading of Husserl’s phenomenology is quite fruitful. Admittedly, Husserl uses the word ‘continuum’, but the fact that each individual moment is influenced by retention and protention, definitely suggests that consciousness is never fully in an instant. And, as mentioned, Derrida’s idea of Différance plays an important conceptual position in exemplifying this.
This post has discussed Husserl’s ‘The Phenomenology of Internal Time-Consciousness’, reading it, if one takes an idealist stance, raises some interesting ethical and metaphysical questions. How can we experience multiple temporalities at once? How can our thinking affect the world? And is consciousness ever present in a single moment? If not, then is any reality ever fully present or absent?
Bibliography:
Anderson, Greg. Realness of Things Past: Ancient Greece and Ontological History. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018.
Derrida, Jacques. Of Grammatology translated by Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak. Baltimore: The John Hopkins University Press 1977.
Derrida, Jacques. Voice and Phenomenon: Introduction to the Problem of the Sign in Husserl’s Phenomenology translated by Leonard Lawlor. Evanston:North Western University Press, 2011.
Husserl, Edmund. Cartesian Meditations translated by Dorion Cairns. Alphen aan den Rijn: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1999.
Husserl, Edmund. The Phenomenology of Internal Time-Consciousness translated by James S Churchill. Indiana: Indiana University Press, 1964.
Nicolescu, Basarab. “Transdisciplinarity: past, present and future.” In Congresso Mundial de, pp. 1-24. 2006.
Nicolescu, Basarab. “Methodology of Transdisciplinarity,” World Futures, 70:3-4, 186-199 (2014)
This post will review Donald D. Hoffman’s book ‘The Case Against Reality: How Evolution Hid The Truth From Our Eyes.’ As readers may know, I am interested in perception, though my knowledge mainly comes from continental philosophy. It was therefore quite fascinating to read a book that is based more on a analytical approach.
The title given to the book is no doubt meant to be provocative, but the book itself does not deny the existence of reality, just that we, as humans, do not perceive as it really is. Hoffman writes ‘there are, at the photoreceptors of the eye, no luscious apples and no dazzling waterfalls. There is just a stupefying array of numbers with no obvious meaning’ and ‘with clever detective work and theorising, your brain interprets a jumble of numbers as a coherent world, and that interpretation is what you see- the best theory your brain could muster.’ In other words, reality consists of particles, etc, that we cannot see, objects are simply the way the brain translates these into a coherent view.
But why would we see reality inaccurately? It is, according to Hoffman, because we have evolved this way. This seems counterintuitive and Hoffman admits the traditional view has been that evolution had guided us towards, not away, from an objective reality. The argument goes that, the more you see of objective reality, the more likely you are to survive. But this is wrong according to The Case Against Reality. Hoffman uses a very good analogy to explain why. If you are using a computer, you see the interface not circuits, voltages and layers of software. The latter ones would be pretty much useless to a non-expert, whereas with an interface most people can or can learn how to use a computer. To use a more evolutionary example, if a snake was approaching you and all you saw was mathematics and molecules you would not be aware that you are in danger. However, when you see a whole snake you know to run away. Evolution, according to Hoffman, is based around fitness points, we evolve in a way that makes us more likely to survive and produce offspring, seeing reality does not make you survive better.
Hoffman is quite convincing at times, but his approach to evolutionary psychology is quite problematic. In one chapter, he focuses on why humans are attracted to each other, with a particular focus on eyes. He says evolution plays a critical role in making split-second decisions on who we choose. Yet, he simplifies the reality of relationships, some people choose not to have children, what is the evolutionary basis of that? Others do not want to be in a relationship at all, is that due to evolution? My point being that Hoffman forgets about culture and society and reduces everything down to biology. Love clearly has more complexity than simply being about mating, at the very least there is a rich tradition of culture about it.
More convincing is his use of quantum physics. Quantum physics is the study of the atomic and sub-atomic. Hoffman suggests that certain quantum theories dictate that nothing is independent of an observer. An object does not exist if no one is looking at it. More radically, Hoffman argues that spacetime itself does not exist, it is a construction of our brains. He writes ‘spacetime is not an objective reality. It is an interface shaped by natural selection to convey messages about fitness.’ Hoffman also states ‘human vision, shaped by eons of natural selection, compresses them into three dimensions of space and time, and into objects with shapes and colours, I can’t handle hundreds of dimensions, but I can handle a few.’ Spacetime may be dependent on the role of an observer and I am likely to believe that evolution would reduce the complexity of dimensions to prevent an information overload. Nevertheless, my issue with Hoffman’s biological reductionism is still there.
To end, I will cover two issues that intrigue me greatly. Firstly, what about change? Can an experience of an object change over time? The answer may seem obvious, yes. I see a coastline with a cliff, I come back years later and it has receded, thus the object is different. However, ontologically speaking, has it altered or has it simply lost a property and remained fundamentally the same? Hoffman does not address this issue in depth, but his emphasis on the role of an observer and his use of quantum physics does imply that an object can fundamentally change.
The second question relies on multiple people. Do we all experience the world in the same way? Hoffman cites synaesthesia as evidence that we do not. Synaesthesia is when someone experiences one sense through another one. So, the world can, with regards to sensation, feel quite different from person to person. Nevertheless, Hoffman believes there are other agents out in the world. He writes ‘the way one agent in a network perceives depends on the way that some other agents act.’ We are not loners, even if we experience the world differently.
I found The Case Against Reality a very interesting book. I have issues with its reliance on evolutionary psychology, but ,at times, I found its arguments persuasive. It seems the questions it addresses will not be fully resolved soon, we may never completely know how accurate our experience of reality is.
So far I have generally avoided talking about politics on my blog because it can provide inflammatory, so I decided to start with a not very controversial issue here in the UK- Europe. Thankfully, Derrida, writing in 1991, provides a very nuanced interpretation of the continent. Though, of course, this was before Brexit. I am not sure he envisaged his commentary on Europe as tackling this issue, but more the fall of the Berlin Wall. I believe he did not think being European was something we had a choice over.
So what does it mean to be European? The first thing to note is that Europe is defined by its relationship to what is outside of it. Thus, Derrida says ‘is there then a completely new “today” of Europe beyond all the exhausted programs of Eurocentrism and anti-Eurocentrism, these exhausting yet unforgettable programs?’ Europe is not the centre of the world, yet it is also not a periphery. Identity is also formed by the other, Derrida states ‘the heading of the other being perhaps the first condition an identity or identification that is not an ego-centrism destructive of oneself and the other’. The opening up of the other must always be ‘experienced as always possible’. Thus, Europe must be open to the potential of the other, the outside.
Identity is also constituted by difference-to-oneself. Derrida writes ‘this can be said, inversely or reciprocally, of all identity or identification: there is no relation to oneself, no identification with with oneself, without culture, but a culture of oneself as a culture of the other, a culture of the double genitive and of the difference to onself.’ This makes a lot of sense for me, we can only identify ourselves as different from an identity i.e we never fulfil an identity, even our own, completely. After all, identity is something we strive towards or against (the latter potentially being bad). European identity has also ‘exhausted all the possibilities of discourse and counter-discourse about its own identification.’ Furthermore, ”identification is itself cultural and never natural.’ The latter point is essential if we are to avoid falling into essentialist ideas regarding ethnicity and other forms of identity.
So is Derrida pro-transnational and pro-EU? I believe he likely would be, with a few caveats. For example, he still sees a place for nationalism. He writes ‘nationalism and cosmopolitanism have always gotten along well together, as paradoxical as this may seem.’ And ‘I am (we are) all the more national for being European, all the more European for being trans-European and international.’ In my opinion, when Derrida calls nationalism and cosmopolitanism as mutual with each other, he must be thinking of a civic nationalism, rather than ethnic nationalism. After all, his critique of identity would be against fixed ethnic and biological ideas. The other factor to consider is what Derrida means by European- when he uses the term he is not using it to exclusively refer to the EU. What about the Eastern European countries which joined in 2004, 2007 and 2013? Is he including them? He also speaks of the Mediterranean, he says he is ‘not quite European by birth’ since he comes from French Algeria, but sees himself as an ‘over-colonised European hybrid.’ Thus, the concept of Europe is not always that quite clear, he published this work in tumultuous times and openness to the other automatically challenges the idea and boundaries of Europe, though this is not necessarily a problem.
Another point worth highlighting is that The Other Heading also features a reference to Derrida’s concept of the ‘democracy-to-come.’ Democracy is ‘not even that of a regulative idea in the Kantian sense, but rather something that remains to be thought and to come…not something that is certain to happen tomorrow, not the democracy…of the future, but a democracy that must have the structure of a promise.’ This is an interesting idea and I will be interested to learn more about it when I read Derrida’s other later works.
The final thing I want to note is the Derrida’s approach to the phenomena known as ‘public opinion’ in the final essay of The Other Heading. The concept of ‘public opinion’ proves to be something, according to Derrida, that is hard to pin down. He states ‘if it had a proper place (but that is the whole question), public opinion would be the forum for a permanent and transparent discussion. It would be opposed to non-democratic powers, but also to its own political representation. Such representation will never be adequate to it, for it breathes, deliberates and decides according to other rhythms.’ Public opinion is thus, as a concept, does not fit into categories or even established institutions easily. Furthermore, ‘public opinion is de jure neither the general will nor the nation, neither ideology, nor the sum total of private opinions.’ Again, one only has to think of how often we hear of the public’s opinion on the news, when does a collection of opinions turn into public opinion? In my opinion, this is not an easy question to answer.
This post has not meant to be a comprehensive overview of Derrida’s The Other Heading, but it has meant to raise some points of interest. I hope I have raised some interesting questions and points that arise from a reading of the work.
I have been experimenting with Gephi again, with the aim of learning how to create a dynamic network (one which evolves over time). I have decided to turn my experiences into a tutorial, as it took me a while to create one. Furthermore, as a lot of the tutorials out there require you to code, I thought it best to show how to create one only using Microsoft Excel.
The first thing you will want to do is create your database. For the data in this tutorial, I am using my old undergraduate dissertation database on Cassiodorus’ Variae, though you will likely need to collect and input your data yourself. Networks consist of nodes and edges and you will need two separate sheets or documents in Excel to show these. Below you can see my nodes table. The crucial elements are the ID and the Label, Gephi will recognise these when you import the spreadsheet, and a column called ‘timeset’. The other columns, like gender and profession, are optional, but will become attributes you can analyse them in Gephi. In the ID column, assign a number to your nodes and label them in the next column, something that will allow you to identify them will be helpful in this instance. In the timeset column, enter the dates you want the node to exist for. If you want your node to exist, say, between 492 and 526, you must enter it the exact following format.
<[492.0, 526.0]>
Repeat this for the all nodes you want to assign a date, it will probably be useful to keep a note of start and end dates as you progress with the ID and Label columns, when you initially go through your data. A quick note- the dates I have entered for this example are for the purposes of the tutorial only, they are not meant to indicate the exact date the chosen individuals were around.
Next, you may want to assign a date to the edges (the links between nodes). If so, create a separate sheet or even document for the edges table. The easiest format for Gephi to recognise is a source-target table. In its simplest form, it involves a source (the first node in a connection), a target (the other node in a connection) and a weight (a measurement of the strength of a connection). The source and target should be the IDs you assigned in the nodes table. The fourth column should be named ‘timeset’ and again include the dates of a edge in the same format used for the nodes. You may find it useful to have a ‘source label’ and ‘target label’ column on this document. While not required (I have deleted them for the image below because of this), they can help you keep track of who is connecting to who, Gephi should treat them as attributes and so it should not alter the network itself.
You will now want to import your spreadsheets into Gephi. Firstly, click on data laboratory and then import spreadsheet. A box should appear which allows you to browse your files, click on your nodes table to import it to Gephi. An ‘import settings’ window should now open. On the first screen (below) make sure the nodes sheet is selected and that you have chosen import as ‘nodes table’. Click next and a second screen should appear. The next step is crucial, where it says ‘time representation’, make you click intervals. This should cause the box under the ‘timeset’ label to say ‘intervalset’. After this you can click ‘finish.’ Then another screen should appear and you should choose to append the imported data to the existing workspace.
Repeat the steps above, except this time import your edges data. Make sure import as edges table is selected and then on the second screen make sure interval is selected again. Finally, append the table to the existing ‘workspace’.
Go on overview and you should be able to seed your graph, with the nodes connected by the edges. I would then suggest running a layout algorithm to make your graph easier to understand visually. I selected the ‘Yifan Hu’ algorithm, you can choose this by going through window and then layout and then selecting the algorithm on the drop down menu that appears to the left.
Finally, you will want to know how to enable the timeline which allows you to view how the network evolves over time. The image above clearly shows ‘enable timeline’ towards the bottom. Another way to access the timeline is to go on ‘window’ and then ‘timeline.’ A box should appear at the bottom with a draggable animation interval, use this to select how quickly you will view the network evolve.
The images below show my network evolving overtime.
I hope this tutorial has helped anyone wanting to create a dynamic graph, please let me know if you need any help or have suggestions for my instructions.
This is my fifth podcast and its accompanying script. Two notes, firstly this episode is adapted heavily from a post I wrote on my old blog. It is one of my few posts that stand up on it and so it seemed suitable for a podcast covering it. Secondly, I have decided to change the name of my podcast from the The Early Medieval Podcast to The Late Antique Podcast. The reasoning behind this being that after doing five episodes, with all of them focusing on Late Antiquity, it makes sense to fit this niche.
Podcast:
Script:
The debate surrounding the settlement of the barbarians in the Western Roman Empire is one of the most hotly contested issues of the Late Antique period. This has been particularly apparent since the publication of Walter Goffart’s 1980 book Barbarians and Romans, A.D 418-584: The Techniques of Accommodation. Before this, the consensus on the settlement of the barbarians was mainly based around the Roman quartering system of Hospitalitas. This consensus, developed from Gaupp’s 1844 work, stated that barbarians received shares of land that had been divided into three. This was an extension of a law from the Theodosian Code describing the practice of billeting Roman troops on civilian land (Hospitalitas). Consequently,this implied that the settlements involved a physical transfer of land. Goffart, starting with Ostrogothic Italy, offered a radical departure to this, suggesting that instead of receiving land barbarian settlers were given a third of the usual tax revenues, specifically put aside for them. This was based on two key terms found in Cassiodorus’ Variae. The first being illatio tertiarum, previously this had been considered as a tax paid by those who were not currently hosting a Goth. He now argued this must be understood as referring to the aforementioned diverted and general tax revenue. The second term was millenarrii which Goffart believed referred to a unit of tax assessment that funded the payments made to the Goths, before this most interpretations thought this term referred to a commander of 1000 men. Goffart was therefore arguing that barbarians were not given or rewarded with a share of land, but instead with a share of the normal tax revenues of the state.
With this podcast I hope to show that the large difference between the ‘land’ and ‘tax’ views in the debate can mainly be ascribed to the highly scant and inconclusive nature of the evidence. In essence, it is a historiographical conundrum that raises questions about how the historian should interpret and use evidence. This is not a new point, Goffart himself saw the implications of his argument for historians when he wrote ‘what is at stake in all this not one’s sympathy or antipathy towards barbarians, Germans or Goths, rather a conception of how history on the modern marvel may be legitimately be assembled and written’. However, I believe it is a seriously underdeveloped part of the discussion surrounding the settlements. Secondly, by doing this it will become clear that this debate is too centred around finding a single explanatory model for the barbarian settlement. It is often in danger of becoming mechanistic by trying to apply a single model to different geographic and political contexts. More nuanced interpretations of the barbarian settlements do exist, for example Halsall has already made the case for moving beyond the ‘land’ vs ‘tax’ debate. In fact, Goffart himself sought to address some of the issues present in his argument when he returned to the debate in 2006, for example stating that ‘land’ could have had multiple meanings. I will extend this discussion of the historiographical aspect of this debate in three sections, by focusing on successively on the settlement of the Ostrogoths, Visigoths and Burgundians in the Western Empire.
Settlement of the Ostrogoths in Italy
Goffart, when working out the technicalities of barbarian settlement, started with Ostrogothic Italy. This was because, he argued, that the evidence for this area was the most contemporary and detailed. One of his first steps was to try and demolish the evidence for a landed allotment found in Procopius’ History of the Wars. This is a key step, as if Procopius is taken at face value a ‘landed’ arrangement is shown quite clearly. Procopius states ‘by giving a third part of the land to the barbarians, and in this way gaining their allegiance more firmly, he [Odoacer] held the supreme power for nearly ten years’. This of course is referring to the predecessor in Italy to the Ostrogothic king Theodoric and a supposed grant of land. Goffart proposes a number of reasons to distrust this statement. Firstly, that Procopius was from the Eastern Roman Empire and wished to describe Odoacer as a tyrant, with him also respecting Theodoric. The handing over of lands to the barbarians of course being seen as a negative act. Secondly, he also suggests another possibility, that Procopius is criticising the Roman practice of co-operating with barbarians. These criticisms of Procopius are quite valid and even some of Goffart’s major opponents such as Sam Barnish distrust this statement as evidence of a landed settlement. Some such as Peter Heather, in an article on Gothic ideology, have suggested we should not be too quick to dismiss Procopius as a source. The debate around whether we should trust Procopius is in essence historiographical, raising the question about how much trust we should put in a source, and how literal we should take it.
Goffart then, as shown in the introduction, goes to use Cassiodorus’ Variae to develop his theory for the mechanics of barbarian settlement. Overall, his thesis is supported very well by the evidence found in these letters. Goffart’s strongest piece of evidence is perhaps Variae 2:17, in which Theodoric instructs the local authorities of Trent to cancel the taxes for land given to the Priest Butila. According to Goffart, this letter states that prior to the assignment to Butila, the land was subject to ordinary taxation, but once he received it became tax free. Now in a possession of a Goth, the tax revenue, the illatio usually set aside for the Goths, was no longer necessary. Goffart also uses Variae 5:27 to support his thesis for the settlement of Italy. Hodgkin’s translation states that it orders the captains of the thousands of the men of Picenum and Samnium, suggesting that Gothic soldiers who served in the field should not lose their reward. Goffart takes a different interpretation of this passage suggesting that the term millenae refers not to a captain of the thousands, but the collective term to which all the Goths in these provinces are referred to as part of the process of receiving an annual tax revenue. The Variae can therefore be used to support Goffart’s thesis and yet at same doing so leaves us with even more questions about how we should approach the sources for the settlement of the Goths.
Different viewpoints in the Hospitalitas debate can often hinge on an interpretation of a single term or sentence in sources such as the Variae. This of course can be problematic, should we take the meaning of the texts literal? Likewise, can a word mean something completely different in the context of another source? Furthermore, Goffart seems to place more trust in Cassiodorus than Procopius, but is his reasoning valid? As shown by Patrick Amory the Variae themself often had an ideological purpose. What I am wanting to show by raising these questions here is that the debate on barbarian settlement, as it is based on technicalities and often small pieces of evidence, acts as a focal point for discussion on how history should be carried out.
While Procopius and the Variae may be considered as direct pieces of evidence on the settlement of the Ostrogoths in Italy, there are a number of practical reasons and pieces of external evidence to suggest that a landed settlement in Italy is unlikely. If a landed assignment was made in Italy, the aristocracy would have deprived themselves of their own land and also their wealth. There is little evidence for this or any unrest and the idea that a landed allotment would have been favourable to the aristocracy if a land grant was the case does not seem reasonable. Furthermore, the fact that we can say barbarians owned land does not necessarily prove that they received it as part of a settlement agreement. Settlers could have used their income from the tax in order to buy land. This once again raises a historical issue. In the context of Italy, Goffart’s thesis seems the most practical in contrast to the greater harm a landed settlement could have caused to the aristocracy. However, these assumptions are based on the absence of evidence or pragmatism, they are speculative even if it appears there are good reasons to believe in them.. Once again, the debate over the settlement of the barbarians in the Western Roman Empire forces us to encounter questions about how we should approach evidence and whether there is room for inferences ‘around’ or ‘outside’ the sources.
Settlement of the Visigoths
Whereas, a tax based reward seems more likely for the settlement of the Ostrogoths in Italy, it is harder to prove this for the settlement of the Visigoths in Southern Gaul. Halsall suggests that the restricted reading for their settlement (and also for the Burgundians) makes Goffart’s thesis more plausible. This is where I would make a departure and suggest that the absence of evidence actually makes a landed settlement more likely. Nevertheless, I still aim to avoid a general or ‘mechanistic’ view of settlement in the Roman Empire, emphasising a landed settlement in this instance only because of the particular context of the Visigothic settlement.
One of the major sources for Visigothic settlement is the fifth-century Code of Euric, which is only accessible through the seventh-century Visigothic Code. One can immediately identify that this poses lots of problems about whether we can trust the source and it is easy to see why Goffart leaves it to after his discussion of Italy. Nevertheless, there are a number of statements here that imply a landed settlement over a tax-based solution, even if they do so in a sketchy fashion. In 1:1:17 the codedescribes the process of returning land to Romans from which they had been deprived, this seems to imply physical ownership rather than a unit of tax assessment. 10:1:8-9 presumes that disputes would arise over land ownership, but there is an absence of any specific references to differences between Romans and barbarians. 8:5:5 refers to the fact that travellers may have used land that has not been closed in and could be making a reference to the Roman system of hospitalitas. The Code of Euric and the Visigothic Code are therefore highly problematic when it comes to discussing the settlement of the Visigoths in Gaul, even if there are hints at a landed settlement. With the evidence being so scarce, we are forced to ask if the external context and evidence can be used to try and understand the mechanics of barbarian settlement.
Perhaps, the most convincing reason to believe that a landed settlement would have been likely in Gaul is because the disadvantages of doing so would not have been as prominent, in comparison to Italy. Most historians agree that the area the Visigoths settled in was experiencing some sort of crisis. Kulikowksi suggests the settlement of the Visigoths in in Aquitania II meant that the areas that had recently supported usurpation were flanked by the Imperial capital, Arles and the Goths. Burns suggests the settlement must be understood in the context of Constantius trying to stabilise Gaul and Spain. The use of combined Roman and Gothic garrisons in the latter proved to be a bad idea, so the Visigoths, according to Burns, were settled back in Southern Gaul. Nixon has also used a range of literary sources to show the turmoil present in this area at the time. Therefore, while historians do not agree on what exactly happened, it is clear that Gaul during the period of Visigothic settlement was experiencing some sort of political crisis. A landed settlement of the Visigoths in Southern Gaul therefore makes sense as a means of trying to bring the area back into the fold of the Imperial administration. This was perhaps short-sighted, for example the Visigothic King Theodoric II would later support Avitus in his bid to become emperor. Nevertheless, a landed and physical settlement might have been seen as a politically viable move at the time to recover a ‘lost’ territory.
This of course once again raises the question of whether we should use indirect evidence- that which does not mention the terms or mechanics of barbarian settlement specifically- to help solve our historical conundrum. As we can see very different conclusions can be made from this sort of evidence when we compare the settlement of Gaul to the settlement of Italy. This problem is made more difficult by the number of references in Gallic sources of the period that could be used to imply a landed settlement, such as those in the works of Sidonius Apollinaris and the Gallic Chronicle of 452. We must be careful when using these as they usually detail individual disturbances or settlements. All this forces to ask whether it is possible and to collate fragmentary and ambiguous pieces of evidence to create a wider narrative about the barbarian settlements. As can be seen much of this will come to down to how the individual historian decides to approach the question of settlement and their choice of what is and what is not worthy evidence. Perhaps, what we can learn from all this historiographical pondering is that discussing the settlement of the barbarians does not have an easy answer and that trying to apply a mechanistic solution risks being overly simplistic.
Settlement of the Burgundians
The settlement of the Burgundians in the Western Empire equally raises many questions about how should approach the Hospitalitas Debate. Once again here, like the settlement of the Visigoths, the evidence is once again sketchy. The main source for a landed settlement in this instance comes from the Burgundian Code, in particularly titles 54 and 55 which belong to the Liber Consitutionum of 417. Much like the evidence from the Visigothic code, some of the titles imply a landed settlement quite heavily. Title 54 states ‘It was commanded at the time that the order was issued whereby our people should receive one-third of the slaves, and two thirds of the land’. The use of slaves concurrently suggests the reference to land in this instance could imply physical ownership. It is difficult to identify the idea of a tax revenue instead of land here, when there is also a clause containing information on a ‘physical property’ such as a slave. In title 54 there is also a reference to barbarians and ‘which hospitality assigned him’. This is using the language of hospitalitas, which is mostly not present in the evidence found in Cassiodorus’ Variae. Similarly, this clause also states that land should not be taken contrary to the ‘gift’. The language used here suggests it was a ‘one-off’ gift and it is difficult to suggest that this could mean a permanent tax revenue.
Title 55 also mentions the law of hospitality. Which once again raises the question of whether this should be interpreted as meaning temporary or permanent settlement. Perhaps, one of the strongest indicators of some sort of land based arrangement comes with the statement ‘let the guests of the contestants not be involved in the quarrel’. Once again it is difficult to see how this language of guests or hospitality could be interpreted meaning as something other than a land settlement. However, there is not much to go on within the code to show if this is arrangement permanent or temporary. We are also faced with another dilemma, can we put trust in the source that what it is saying is accurate? Like the Visigothic code titles 54 and 55 of the Burgundian text survive in much later copies. At the same time it provides some of the most detailed evidence on the process of settlement for the Burgundians. This of course, once again shows, how the debate surrounding barbarian settlement brings is ultimately of historiographical concern, ultimately about how one should approach the evidence that is available.
A number of writers and chroniclers also point towards the possibility of a landed settlement. Propsper of Aquitaine and Hydatius describe the handing over of land. Wheareas, The Gallic Chronicle of 452 describes how Sapaudia was given to the remnants of the Burgundians , who had been defeated by Aetius, to be divided with the native inhabitants. Wood has highlighted a number of problems with this source, for example its chronology is misplaced and the exact location of Sapaudia is unknown. Therefore, much like with the Visigothic settlement of Gaul evidence external to the law codes is fragmentary and is difficult to use when trying to discuss the settlement of the Burgundians. However, we should be careful in making direct analogies between these two settlements, despite the evidence initially appearing quite similar and with it leaning towards the ‘land’ side of the Hospitalitas debate.The evidence found in the Burgundian Code is quite different to that found the Visigothic Code, titles 54 and 55 more directly refer to the settlement of the Burgundians, whereas the Visigothic Code tends to only refer to the process of settlement by implication. The point of course here is that we should be careful when approaching evidence and trying to find an easy ‘fit-all’ solution to barbarian settlement.
Conclusion
This podcast has not necessarily tried to solve any of the problems regarding the settlement of the barbarians in the Western Roman Empire, but it has tried to show how the debate has a historiographical aspect. It forces the historian to question how they approach and how they should use the sources at their disposal, as vastly different interpretations have derived from a limited base of evidence, due to the different ways it has been approached. Secondly, it has shown that because of these varied problems it would be wrong to develop a ‘copy and paste’ mechanism in trying to understand the settlement of the barbarians. We cannot simply create a general explanation for barbarian settlement with the evidence available and so focusing on the individual contexts of the Ostrogothic, Visigothic and Burgundian accommodations is not only a necessity, but also good historical practice.
Bibliography
Primary Sources:
Cassiodorus, Variae translated in The Letters of Cassiodorus: Being A Condensed Translation Of The Variae Epistolae Of Magnus Aurelius Cassiodorus Senator translated by Thomas Hodgkin. London: Henry Frowde, 1886.
Chronica Gallica of 452 in From Roman to Merovingian Gaul: A Reader translated by Alexander C. Murray. Letchworth: Broadview Press, 2000.
Lex Burgundionum in The Burgundian Code: Book of Constitutions or Law of Gundobad Additional Enactments translated by Katherine F. Drew. Philadelphia: University of Pennysylvania Press, 1972.
Lex Visigothorum in The Visigothic Code translated by Samuel P. Scott. Boston: The Boston Book Company, 1910.
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Nixon, Charles E.V. “Relations between Visigoths and Romans in Fifth-century Gaul.” In Fifth-century Gaul: A Crisis of Identity?, edited by John Drinkwater and Hugh Elton, 64-74. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992.
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———. “The Barbarian Invasions and First Settlements.” edited by Averil Cameron and Peter Garnsey, 516-37. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997.
Philosophical Ostrogoth 