The other term in Polanyi’s apparent binary is, as already noted, ‘tacit’, and is familiar from its derivative, ‘taciturn’. (‘Apparent’ because they are neither complementary not opposite, as Polanyi himself indicates they are terms which describe the structure of a ‘dimension’, not separate and isolated alternatives ). Both words have in common their origins in silence, and in that which is passed over in silence. The difference that makes a difference is that, whilst taciturn suggests a reluctance or unwillingness to speak, tacit does not offer even the possibility. . Paralleling the physical principle of ‘subsidiary awareness’ outlined above, to be tacit is to be constitutive of expressibility but to take no part in that expression. Though it has position within the body of the speaker, that position is disposition. In contrast to explicit knowledge which folds out in the direction of a metaphorically external, distant object, tacit knowledge stays close to home and the condition of the subject. In the spectrum of knowing and being, tacit knowledge blends into being.
The overall image that Polanyi provides is one in which an understanding of knowledge and knowing maps onto our experience of being the being at the centre of phenomenal space and makes consistent use of metaphors of space as well as the different sensory modalities which function at different spatial removes. That which is tacit and which is close to us, or which is interior to us, does not extend into space and cannot be visualized and objectified. If it is sensed at all this sense is felt rather than observed, a sensorial engagement appropriate to its proximal intimacy. That knowledge which is tacit is held in the necessary silence of our being. As knowledge becomes explicit it coalesces into another being beyond the limits of our skin and the limits of our arms. Performing its primal act, knowledge rolls out toward the horizon, leading our eyes to the object created by that unfolding.
In the last posting I spoke of the ‘phenomenal space’ of subjective being and how the facts of our embodiment bring with them an intuitive understanding of space. This space has particular characteristics that flow from the nature of our embodiment and from the environment in which that embodiment comes together. What I would like to indicate here is that we also live in other, complementary spaces which also inform how we construct thought and meaning.
In the appendix to his book on relativity theory (2003) the physicist David Bohm addressed some of the issues around perception that come out of some of the idea in that book. Part of this concerns the relationship between perception and space and how the ability to occupy different positions in space changes the nature of perception and the objects that such perception embraces. He gives the example of seeing an ellipse, perhaps the ellipse formed by looking at the top of a coffee cup as it is held in the hand prior to drinking from it. Even though the visual image presented to the organ of sense, the eye, is this ellipse it is not seen as such. Perception seamlessly interprets the top of the cup as circular, even though we at no point see this circle in its most essential form (if we did we would have a lapful of coffee). The process at work here is that the visual sensorimotor system responsible for engaging with the top of the cup is not stationary, fixing its gaze unswervingly on this object. Instead it is an eye in motion (even if that motion is relatively slight) and each motion of eye, head, hand, and arm changes the orientation of the cup to our eye and simultaneously changes the shape of the ellipse in lockstep with this motion. Extrapolating from this constantly changing but systematically related data the perception of the top of the cup is made up not from a single viewpointed image but of this extrapolation, the circle we rarely see. This process points up an understanding of space in which it is not only egocentrically oriented around the axis of the unmoving situated body. The space that Bohm indicates is one in which our ability to move and to quite literally see things from different angles is taken into account. In this space there is no inevitable perspectivalism, and the railway tracks which lead off toward the horizon are seen as the parallel lines that they surely are. This is the scientific method in miniature, in which the evidence of the senses are peer reviewed by those same senses but from other places and at other times.
There is also another space, perhaps an extension of the last, which arises from our being in a world shared by other beings with similar senses. The space that I occupy is also entertained by you and by others, and the number of eyes which look out onto this space multiply accordingly. Experiencing this space involves social processes and the sharing of sense through interpersonal and extrapersonal means. This is the kind of sense which one gains from learning and becoming informed. It is common sense because it is held in common, available not only to one individual through the intuitive sense of their subjective embodiment but to anyone who cares to learn. The common sense alluded to here, whilst it may offer a viewpoint on the universe which seems, to some at least, arbitrary, gyratory, and lacking the privilege of centeredness, is also a sense which places our eyes everywhere and gives us what Thomas Nagel (1986) paradoxically referred to as ‘the view from nowhere’. In the vast incomprehensibility of space there is not a single place anywhere that one cannot conceive oneself as occupying and the totality of one’s image of the universe is a collation of all these possible viewing positions.
It seems likely, therefore, that we are creatures who simultaneously inhabit not one space but several. There is the space of subjectivity and self-centeredness, in which the world radiates out from one’s body, diminishing with distance in both size and importance until it disappears over the horizon, and there is the space of experience which presents the world to us in the different ways available to mobile animals; And then there is the space of objectivity, in which we occupy all the centres of the universe at once and the peripheral horizon disappears. The first space is our birthright; the product of our animal embodiment and our embeddedness in the environment. The second we earn through motion and exploration. The third is our New Found Land; the result of the gradual enlightenment of our species and the vision admitted by that light.
When Primack and Adams (2006) draw attention to the potential for existential anomie afforded by the internalization of Newtons’s impersonal space, they are reminding us that such learning is not only the acquisition of rational, disembodied facts. They recognize that the images we hold of space, on the grandest scale possible, are also constructive of the fabric of our understanding. The intuition that comes with subjective embodiment is joined by other intuitions, which may at times be at odds with the first. Each of these spaces is at work in our cognition, and each is active in our intuitions. Each appears, unbidden and often invisible, in the poetics of our language, and each space is used to contain the ideas and objects of our experience, the stuff of meaning and thought.
BOHM, D. & NICHOL, L. (2003) The essential David Bohm, London, Routledge.
NAGEL, T. (1986) The view from nowhere, New York, OUP.
PRIMACK, J. R. & ABRAMS, N. E. (2006) The view from the centre of the universe, London, Fourth Estate.
“Every person is at the center of his world, and circumambient space is differentiated in accordance with the schema of his body” (Tuan, 1971).
(I haven’t got time to write this right now. I’ll try to get back to it tomorrow, or maybe on Friday)
TUAN, YI-FU (1977) Space and Place: The Perspective of Experience. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis.
In their book ‘The View from the Centre of the Universe’ Joel Primack and Nancy Abrams say this:
In their hearts, most people are still living in an imagined universe, where space is simply emptiness, stars are scattered randomly, and common sense is a reliable guide. In this imagined universe, we humans have no special place and often feel insignificant. (2006: 3)
What I want to begin here is a thought that parts company with Primack and Adams and their version of this heartfelt common sense. I want to suggest that common sense tells us that space is anything but simple and that humans do indeed have a special place. I want to begin though with the big picture of space before bringing it up close and personal.
Thomas Kuhn’s notion of the ‘paradigm shift’, articulated in ‘The Structure of Scientific Revolutions’ (1968), postulated that occasionally there are major changes in the way that science understands (all or part of) the world. The most commonly-cited example of such a shift concerns space and how it is conceptualized. This is the Copernican revolution from an Earth-centered universe to one centered on the Sun; a revolution in which the old order of theories, models, diagrams, and mechanisms is dismissed in favour of the new. In Kuhn, it is a necessary consequence of this revolutionary overturning that what went before it becomes wrong and that apostles of the new, (after moving through a brief period of being heretics) become keepers of the new flame and upholders of the new truth. Old is wrong, new is right.
According to Primack and Adams (ibid) a more accurate understanding of what happens during these times is not a replacement of one truth by another but rather the re-interpretation of the data of the world such that it applies to a wider set of circumstances and covers a larger set of phenomena. They give the example of Newtonian physics giving way to the relativity of Einstein, an apparent paradigm shift in which new knowledge describes the universe in ways which are more complete than the old. What they point out however is that Newtonian physics is not rendered wrong by the development of this new science, it is simply redefined as a description of parts of the universe only; basically the middle-sized and slow moving parts; and as long as its methods are applied only to those parts it is as accurate, and more efficient, that any other model or method. It was, after all, Newtonian physics which put men on the moon.
This understanding of certain descriptions of the world having different applicability than others also applies to our understandings of space; the Ptolomaic picture of the Earth-centered universe is not ‘wrong’ in any transcendental sense, it is instead a local interpretation of the data concerning planetary movement. In many cases it is preferable to work with the assumption that the Earth is stationary and central rather orbital and peripheral. When we make appointments or set our watches we do not consider this as stating the location of the Earth in its orbit around the Sun, or the number of degrees through which it has rotated. We refer to sunrise not Earthfall and we watch the Sun go down over the ocean, not the Earth turning its face away into the darkening night. For most purposes the Ptolomaic model of the universe in which Earth is the centre of attention is sufficient. This is not to say that when we use such Earth-centered concepts we are using a kind of lazy shorthand, or are being inaccurate. When the application of the Ptolomaic paradigm is limited to specific uses such as these it is as accurate, and more efficient, that the Copernican.
On the even more local scale of embodied experience, we can extend this notion of overlapping or simultaneous paradigms to include the apparently self-evident wrong-headedness of Flat Earth theory. The Earth when seen from space is obviously a ball and any depiction of the Earth as a two-dimensional surface is demonstrably inaccurate. However, in day to day life we routinely work with the assumption that it is indeed a flat plane, and are rarely proved wrong. When we measure a room prior to fitting a carpet, or stake out the foundations of a building, we do not take the spherical nature of the Earth into account. It would be perfectly possible to include this curvature in our calculations but since this difference would be insignificant (smaller by far than the variations in the landscape itself) it would be foolish to do so. It is at this level that embodied experience and the paradigms which make up that experience, become available as accurate, relevant theory.
There are, therefore, good pragmatic reasons why we might assume that the Earth is flat and why we might live large parts of our lives in the shadow of that assumption. Furthermore, there would be very little reason at all why we should develop an intuition which suggests otherwise. From the perspective of our evolutionary history there would be no benefit to be gained from this kind of abstract spherical knowing, in stark contrast with the distinct advantages claimed by those of our ancestors who cared less about such abstractions and more about the tiger hiding in the bushes at the other side of the, apparently flat, clearing in this forest. Given the tiny slice of human history during which knowledge of the curvature of the Earth would be advantageous, basically since the advent of extended seafaring, it is wildly unlikely that we would have a naturally intuitive grasp of this reality. Our phylogeny, as well as our phenomenology, constantly proposes and confirms our position as Flat-Earthers.
If this seems ludicrous then it is worth noting in passing that the Copernican model tends to promote an understanding of the universe which is as partial in its own way as the Ptolomaic which preceded it. A casual interpretation of the Sun-centered model seems to indicate a stationary star orbited by moving planets, but of course, in relativity, nothing is stationary in absolute terms and by most accounts the Sun itself is hurtling at several thousand miles an hour in the direction of Andromeda, with the planets flailing around it like the loose reins of a runaway horse. Copernicus put his thumb on the Sun and momentarily arrested its wild flight and, in doing so, revealed a pattern in the relationship of the movement of the planets, but the Copernican map is not of the territory of the real solar system, any more than a 2-dimensional map of the Earth is an accurate rendition of the real globe. It is more a graph or schematic showing the pattern of relations he discovered.
What I want to suggest here is that, whilst we are able to fully grasp the idea of the Earth as a ball spinning in the empty space that Primack and Abrams attributed to common sense, in fact this sense is anything but common. In point of phenomenal fact our senses tell us, and told thousands of generations of our ancestors, that we are standing on a plane, beneath a dome of sky, looking out to a horizon that encircles us.
This is one of the experiential logics of embodied space that I believe structure our cognition and that I want to explore. This organised perception of space, in which the organising principle is the human sensorimotor system, contributes to the repertoire of structures which allow meaning and thought to emerge.
All space, from the most counter-intuitive of Einstein and Hilbert to the most transparently familiar of Newton and Descartes is rendered sensible through the confabulatory cognitive operations I have talked about earlier. Yet it is this embodied phenomenal space which perhaps we are most comfortable describing in terms of a ‘poetics’, as indeed Gaston Bachelard did in his most famous book ‘The Poetics of Space’ (1994). The philosopher Michel Foucault had this to say about Bachelard’s work, which resonates strongly with the sense I am groping for here:
“Bachelard’s monumental work and the descriptions of phenomenologists have taught us that we do not live in a homogeneous and empty space, but on the contrary in a space thoroughly imbued with quantities and perhaps thoroughly fantasmatic as well. The space of our primary perception, the space of our dreams and that of our passions hold within themselves qualities that seem intrinsic: these is a light, ethereal, transparent space, or again a dark, rough, encumbered space; a space from above, of summits, or on the contrary a space from below, of mud; or again a space that can be flowing like sparkling water, or a space that is fixed, congealed, like stone or crystal.” (1986:23).
Embodied phenomenal space has a poetic logic of its own; the local interpretation of universal laws that our bodies obey and perform. This space, I would argue, is the one which most readily provides the capacity in which meaning and thought might emerge.
BACHELARD, G. (1994) The Poetics of Space, Boston, Beacon Press.
FOUCAULT, M. (1986) Text/Context of Other Space. Diacritics 16.1 22-27. (online at http://korotonomedya2.googlepages.com/Foucault_OfOtherSpaces.pdf)
KUHN, T. (1968). The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. Chicago, University of Chicago Press.
PRIMACK, J. R. AND N. E. ABRAMS (2006). The view from the centre of the universe. London, Fourth Estate.