beyond the stolid iron pond
soldered with complete silence
the huge timorous hills
squat like permanent vegetables
the judging sun pinches smiling
here and there some huddling vastness
claps the fattest finally
and tags it with his supreme blue
whereat the just adjacent valley
rolls proudly his belligerent bosom
deepens his greens inflates his ochres
and in the pool doubles his winnings
e.e. cummings (1991: 938)
We must hold ourselves ... in readiness to abandon the path we have followed for a time, if it should seem to lead to no good result. Only such `true believers' as expect from science a substitute for the creed they have relinquished will take it amiss if the investigator develops his views further or even transforms them.
Sigmund Freud (1922: 83)
When John invited me to write a paper for Beyond the Symbol Model, he believed, in the light of our discussions several years ago, that I would be one of the defenders of the "symbol model" whose limitations the book as a whole purports to transcend. Although, in keeping with the changes in the intellectual landscape by the end of this century, I have been slowly evolving towards a place somewhere beyond the symbol model, I will -- and not only for the sake of playing the devil's advocate or satisfying John's expectations -- in a certain sense represent "the symbol model" here. For I will be paying close attention to the meaning of certain expressions, especially to the syncategorematic term `beyond' -- which appears prominently in the title of the book.(1) Since I assume that careful linguistic analysis as a way to gain philosophical insights is a hallmark of "the symbol model", I will be acting -- at least in this respect -- on behalf of that model.
There is, however, a catch to it: in my present view, `careful linguistic analysis' goes beyond linguistic analysis as traditionally practiced in analytic philosophy, where the aim is to disclose the `logic' of the ordinary, literal use of a term or concept. After the work of Mary Hesse, George Lakoff, and many others, no appropriate linguistic analysis can overlook the cognitive import of the metaphors we use. In the present case, such an expansion of the notion of `linguistic analysis' requires close attention to the fact that the theoretical uses of `beyond' are metaphorical extensions of its primarily spatio-temporal uses. It is the implications of this fact that I purport to bring to the fore here.
Four books bearing the title Beyond ... stand out on my shelves: Skinner (1972), Bernstein (1983), Freud (1922), and - perhaps the hidden inspiration for all of them -- Nietzche's (1989) Jenseits von Gut und Böse. Surely there are more, less perspicuous ones. There are also in my files several articles bearing this title.(2) Bibliographic search in a philosophical index yielded many more Beyond ... titles. A sample of the list -- which includes, to my surprise, an article by myself (Dascal 1985)(3) -- is given in the references. Stewart's project is thus -- at least linguistically -- in good and productive company. I want to explore the nature of the family resemblance induced among the texts belonging to this company by virtue of the shared metaphor that serves to name and structure them. This exploration, I expect, will shed light on the nature and problems of the Beyond Enterprise in general as well as in its particular instance which is the object of this volume. Although admittedly accidental, I think the sample I have hit upon is representative enough for our purposes.
Before we open these books or read these articles, we are confronted with their titles -- which should be taken very seriously. For they not only are the `commercial tags' which will serve to attract the attention of potential customers. They also act as an author's declaration of intentions and as a powerful clue for the `message' conveyed by their books. Titles deserve, just as any other piece of text, careful syntactic, semantic, and pragmatic analysis.(4)
Two things immediately spring to mind when confronted with the title Beyond X. First, that there is something wrong, unsatisfactory, or at least insufficient, with X. Second, that the author proposes a way to overcome the unsatisfactoriness of X. Such titles normally apply, thus, to texts that contain both a critical and a hope component. No wonder that such texts usually comprise two parts: "The first part of the book deals with what we should leave behind, the last part with what lies beyond" (Kaufmann 1975: preface).(5)
This dual nature of these texts is often marked in their headings themselves, through a peculiar `division of labor' between title and subtitle, one of them indicating that which is to be transcended and the other that which is supposed to transcend it. The subtitle usually refers to that which is supposed to overcome the deficiencies of X, that is to the hope component. For example:
Beyond Nihilism: Nietzsche's Healing and Edifying Philosophy (Nimrod 1991).
Beyond Matter and Mind: Natural Sciences Synthesized into Philosophy (Albert 1960).
Beyond Dogma and Despair: Toward a Critical Phenomenology of Politics (Dallmayr 1981).
Beyond the Big Bang: Quantum Cosmologies and God (Drees 1990).
Beyond the Secular Mind: A Judaic Response to the Problems of Modernity (Eildelberg 1989).
Beyond the Chains of Illusions: My Encounter with Marx and Freud (Fromm 1962).
Beyond Belief and Unbelief: Creative Nihilism (Leon 1965).
Beyond Realism and Marxism: Critical Theory and International Relations (Linklater 1990).
Beyond Ethnocentrism: A Reconstruction of Marx's Concept of Science (McKelvey 1991).
Beyond Good and Evil: Prelude to a Philosophy of the Future (Nietzsche 1989).
Beyond Freud: A Study of Modern Psychoanalytic Theorists (Reppen 1985).
Beyond Deficiency: New Views on the Function and Health Effects of Vitamins (Sauberlich and Machlin 1992).
Beyond Deduction: Ampliative Aspects of Philosophical Reflection (Will 1988).
Notice that many of the subtitles attempt to give expression to the sense of movement involved in transcending X, by introducing the hope component through such terms as `toward', `prelude', `reconstruction', `exploration', `response', `new', `synthesis', `prolegomena' (van Gelder 1993), `from ... to' (Kaufmann 1975), `design' (Mitroff et al. 1983), `confrontation' (Sim 1992), and so on. But these explicit markings are, in a sense, redundant. For subtitles following Beyond X are normally taken to indicate at least elements that, in the author's view, contribute to elaborating that which transcends X. This is the case, for example, in Berenstein (1983), Conner (1987), Gunn (1983), Slote (1989). The linguistic order title --> subtitle `naturally' mirrors the diachronic order old theory --> new theory or the logical order critique (destruction) --> development (construction). As we shall see, this correspondence is anchored in the basic image-schema governing the primary uses of beyond.
To be sure, linguistic order can be reversed, as in the following titles:
"Leibniz on the senses and the understanding: Beyond empiricism and rationalism" (Dascal 1985).
Balance and Refinement: Beyond Coherence Methods of Moral Inquiry (De Paul 1993).
Michel Foucault: Beyond Structuralism and Hermeneutics (Dreyfus and Rabinow 1983).
"Technology and an ethic of limits: Beyond utopia and despair" Farrel 1983).
Antonio Gramsci: Beyond Marxism and Postmodernism (Holub 1992).
These reversals seem to belong to the set of devices used in order to increase the `topicality' of an item, as in "That this is a problem many people have acknowledged" or "My dad, all he ever did was farm and ranch" (Givón 1983: 349). Such devices, according to Givón, serve to mark either higher referential accessibility or increased thematic importance (or both) of the item anteposed. In the case of the titles listed here, although both effects are presumably involved, it seems to me that the pragmatic function of the reversal lies mainly in highlighting the thematic importance of the alternative offered, that is, of the hope component, at the expense of the critical component. The mirroring effect of the linguistic order is deliberately sacrificed for this purpose, but the basic diachronic or logical relation induced by the use of beyond is preserved, just as in "The lake, it is beyond the mountain" the spatial order observer --> mountain --> lake, although not mirrored in the sentence, is preserved.
What is suggested by a title is part and parcel of what a pragmatic analysis seeks to determine: the speaker's meaning of the text, that is, the communicative intention the author seeks to convey through it to an audience. What is characteristic of suggestions -- or, as pragmaticists call them, implicatures -- is that, although they are conveyed by a text or utterance, they are not logically necessary parts of its meaning. This means that, unlike logical implications, they may be canceled. For example, if you ask me whether I am enjoying your party and I reply by saying that the food is excellent, you will normally take me to be expressing less than full enjoyment. I can however (try to) cancel this implicature by adding: "... and the music too, as well as all the rest".(6) An implicature thus functions like a presumption: once detected, it is taken to be present unless some reason is given for suppressing it.
In our case, the critical component we have detected has clearly the status of an implicature.(7) This means that one can find Beyond X titles where there is no intention of conveying criticism of X, but rather just the intention of developing X, building upon it. Yet, in such a case some effort to cancel the implicature must be made. A case in point is Beyond Freud (Reppen 1985), where X (= Freud's theory) is not intended to be criticized. However, the author's awareness of the usual implicature of his title leads him to provide an explicit disclaimer:
Indeed, the title of this volume, Beyond Freud, intends in no way to disparage the originality of psychoanalysis. Instead, it intends to demonstrate how Freud's thinking and how the Freudian text have been used to expand ideas beyond Freud (Preface, p. vii).
Another example is Sauerblich and Machlin (1992). This book is described in a pamphlet as a "watershed work on the role of vitamins in human health and nutrition". Its novelty -- emphasized in the subtitle -- consists however simply in providing scientific evidence for the role of vitamins in preventing a number of diseases. It certainly does not intend to criticize "deficiency". Nor is its purport to criticize popular beliefs on the beneficial effects of vitamins. It lies beyond these beliefs only by providing authoritative "scientific" support for them, thereby showing how vitamins can be used to overcome nutritional deficiencies. This fact is reflected in the choice of title and subtitle. A book with the title Beyond Vitamins would suggest a criticism of vitamins. Not so with Beyond Deficiency, with vitamins judiciously appearing in the subtitle, a place usually reserved for the hope component.
The hope component seems to belong, generally, to a more deeply entrenched layer of meaning of the expression `Beyond X' than the critical component.(8) This is revealed by the fact that it is harder to cancel. In fact, I have not found, so far, Beyond X texts lacking the hope component. This difference in status between the two components is significant, and may bear on the nature of metaphorical extension in general and on the peculiarities we are here considering. We will return to it later. For the time being it suffices to bear in mind that both are cancelable suggestions -- albeit with different degrees of difficulty. Although the hope component is practically always present, it can be construed in quite different ways, ranging from `extensions' or `developments' of X, through `deepenings' or `radicalizations' of X, up to its `replacement' by (eventually) `entirely new alternatives'. Obviously, the particular nature of the hope component is correlated with the nature of the critical component: the more devastating the latter, the more radically new must be the former.
Suggestions and implicatures have to do with the social dimension of meaning, with the interplay between the text and the beliefs, knowledge, and expectations of its intended audience. Every text is designed for some audience (Clark 1992: xviii), and every author takes this fact into account at least to some extent. It stands to reason that Beyond X texts are addressed primarily to two kinds of readers/buyers: a) those who are aware of the unsatisfactoriness of X, and (having perhaps suffered from it) are looking for alternatives to X or ways of improving X; b) those who naively believe that X is perfectly all right as it stands and are to be awaken from their `dogmatic sleep' by reading the book: presumably they will be attracted by the surprise that their belief in X is called into question, and their natural curiosity will prompt them to `call the bluff', and to pay in order to see what the fuss is all about. For the former kind of readers, the hope-appeal is dominant; for the latter, the critical component. An example of the former customer would be someone who buys, say, Beyond Conventional Medicine after years of unsuccessful conventional treatment of his illness. An example of the latter is a Manicheist who never doubted the clearcut and exclusive character of the opposition good/evil, and is struck by the suggestion in Nietzche's title that there may be a third alternative.
The kind of audience primarily envisaged by the author is one of the determinants of the emphasis given to each of the two components and of their particular nature. For example, the intended clients of Dallmayr's (1981) book are political philosophers and scientists who share a "dissatisfaction with the earlier `behavioral' consensus, which aimed to transform political inquiry into a strictly empirical discipline" (p. vii). For such an audience, there is no need to belabor the critique of the behavioral approach, and the text can be presented as an "outgrowth of the `post-behavioral' reorientation of the study of politics" (ibid.). Most of the book can be thus devoted to the hope component, that is, to developing an alternative. What it has to overcome is not the behavioral approach (the "dogma" of the title), but the "despair" of theorizing that ensued, leading researchers in the field to turn to "pragmatic problem solving", in the wake of the failure of the "behavioral" attempt to raise their field to the status of a scientific theory.(9) Insofar as it is critical, the book criticizes the narrow view of (scientific) theorizing held by both, the defenders of the behavioral approach and by those who despaired from it. Its hope lies in broadening this view by appealing to the philosophical insights of phenomenology (Merleau-Ponty), which, combined with those of critical theory (Habermas), provide the proper way of revitalizing political theory.
Let us now focus on some of the specific characteristics of the critical and hope components of the Beyond Enterprise.
The X in Beyond X is, first and foremost, a landmark, by reference to which something else -- that which is supposed to transcend it -- is located. This requires the X to be salient, not topographically, but culturally, of course. It must possess theoretical significance, historical importance, and widely known status. This is usually taken for granted. Nobody would care to write a book or even an article purporting to go beyond some unknown or unimportant X. No doubt what is important or not is, to some extent, in the eyes of the beholder. But the salience requirement would hardly be satisfied by mere subjective importance per se. If the salience of X is not a cultural given, part of the author's efforts will have to be diverted to proving it. And if it is not immediately transparent in the term chosen for X (as it surely is in titles parading "Marx", "Freud", "Postmodernism", "Structuralism", "Good and Evil", "Pleasure-Principle", "Freedom and Dignity"), the preface will set as its main task to make clear the consensual basis on which the salience of X rests (which is what Dallmayr sets out to do regarding the `dogma' of his title).
The salience of a landmark is closely related to another requirement it must fulfill: definiteness. It makes no sense to locate something as "beyond the house" if there are many houses around or as "beyond the border" if there is no clear borderline around. There is therefore a presumption of uniqueness and definiteness regarding X. Authors are no doubt aware of the fact that `postmodernism', `Marxism', `structuralism' and the like are far from satisfying this presumption. And yet they treat these labels as referring to well defined theoretical entities. The use of the by John Stewart, in the phrase `the symbol model', can be seen in this light. Even though he is aware of the fact that there are many varieties of `symbol models', he treats them as sharing some core properties that provide a definite referent for the phrase. One may question this assumption, but to his credit it must be said that he at least undertakes to substantiate it, rather than merely taking it for granted.
By virtue of its role in the construction `Beyond X', X acquires a further property, not unrelated to the preceding ones, which is crucial for understanding the critical component. It is located between the observer and his or her goal. If the observer/author intended only to locate something by reference to X, there would be no need to criticize or overcome X. But it is a typical characteristic of the texts in question that they purport to move past X towards that other thing. X is therefore, broadly speaking, an obstacle in the way towards the goal. This is enhanced by the very salience and definiteness of X, which make it difficult to simply ignore or bypass it. The task of the critical component is to handle this `obstacle'. Its extent, depth, or strength will depend on how much the obstacle is perceived to hinder the author's attempts to reach the goal. Accordingly, it may range from very mild criticism (sometimes disguised as praise) to all-embracing `deconstruction'. Let us consider these in turn.
1. Building upon. I have hedged "obstacle" with the modifier "broadly speaking" precisely in order to account for the cases where criticism seems to be practically absent. As we have seen, sometimes the X is perceived favorably, as something that does not necessarily hinder the attempt to reach the goal, but rather helps. Even in these cases, however, if you have to "climb the giant's shoulders" on your way to the goal, you need to spend some effort to do so: if you want to go "beyond Freud" by relying upon his achievements, you have to learn these achievements in order to become acquainted with that which can be further developed in them. Indirectly, this is a critique, albeit very mild. For it amounts to showing that Freud's theory is not complete or fully developed.
It may be argued -- correctly -- that the proper place for this "building upon" theme is the hope component, rather than the critical component. And indeed, in many cases, that which is to be built upon is mentioned in the hope-subtitle. What is interesting, however, is that even in its `proper' hope position, that which is built upon is subject to criticism. A case in point is Fromm (1962), where Marx and Freud are the giants who began to break the "chains of illusion", but did not go far enough, leaving room for the completion of their work by the author. Such a completion requires a critical attitude toward the assumptions and achievements of the giants. Thus,
Freud's vision was narrowed down by his mechanistic, materialistic philosophy which interpreted the needs of human nature as being essentially sexual ones (Fromm 1962: 26).
Marx was opposed to two positions: the unhistorical one that the nature of man is a substance present from the very beginning of history, and the relativistic position that man's nature has no inherent quality whatsoever and is nothing but the reflex of social conditions. But he never arrived at the full development of his own theory concerning the nature of man, transcending both the unhistorical and the relativistic positions; hence he left himself open to various and contradictory interpretations (Fromm 1962: 31).
2. Inner critique. A slightly stronger form of criticism consists in disclosing in X contradictions, gaps, insufficient development, apparent counterexamples, insufficient grounding, and other forms of intrinsic problems. To be sure, these may add up to building a case for abandoning X altogether. But, if one places oneself within the `research programme' (in Lakatos's sense) represented by X, they may as well function as motivations to correct or improve X rather than for abandoning it.
Thus, the "contradictory interpretations" of Marx's theory are, according to Fromm, partially the fault of Marx himself, but they can be overcome, and once this is done the program can be pursued and brought to fruition. Hope is not to be sought outside the program, in a completely new framework, but rather inside it. This often requires a reconceptualization of the program in somewhat broader terms. Unlike Nietzche, who is critical of "the search for truth" and of the Enlightenment's belief in it, Fromm -- along with Marx and Freud -- depicts himself as a true heir to the Enlightenment, who believes in science, observation, objectivity, and so on,. as the way to freedom. He reconceptualizes this shared program in terms of the notion of `humanism':
The common soil from which both Marx's and Freud's thought grew is, in the last analysis, the concept of humanism. Freud's defense of the rights of man's natural drives against the forces of social convention, as well as his ideal that reason controls and ennobles these drives, is part of the tradition of humanism. Marx's protest against a social order in which man is crippled by his subservience to the economy, and his ideal of the full unfolding of the total, unalienated man, is part of the same humanistic tradition.
Different as they were, they have in common an uncompromising will to liberate man, an equally uncompromising faith in truth as the instrument of liberation and the belief that the condition for this liberation lies in man's capacity to break the chain of illusion (Fromm 1962: 25-26).
An interesting example of inner critique occurs when the author himself is the originator of the X. This is the case in Freud's Beyond the Pleasure Principle, where he sets out to examine his own earlier assumption of the primacy of the pleasure principle in psychic life. As usual, Freud is very careful in defining what would count as evidence against that assumption:
... even under the domination of the pleasure-principle there are ways and means enough of making what is in itself disagreeable/agrreable...; these cases and situations ending in final pleasure gain ... are of no help, since they presuppose the existence and supremacy of the pleasure-principle and bear no witness to the operation of tendencies beyond the pleasure-principle, that is to say, tendencies which might be of earlier origin and independent of this (Freud 1922: 16).
The book is a search for such earlier and independent tendencies, whose result is positive. Hence, the basic answer to the question "Is there something beyond the pleasure-principle?" is positive too. However, the actual answer is, according to Freud himself, "circuituous".(10)It is not an unqualified "Yes", but rather a "Yes, but" which, according to the logic of but (cf. Dascal and Katriel 1977) amounts in fact to a "No". The overall result, thus, is not the unqualified overthrow of the pleasure-principle (a possibility Freud himself does not exclude, as made plain in the quotation used as motto of this paper), but rather its positioning within a more complex stage of the theory, motivated by questions raised within the theory itself.
In general, the upshot of inner critique is to make plain that the criticized views are liable of reform. It is `constructive critique' insofar as it paves the way for further development of a programme or theory, once the detected difficulties are overcome. No wonder that it is directly correlated, thus, with the reform theme in the hope component.
3. Confinement. In most cases, the critical effort is, first and foremost, concerned with showing the limitations of X. This comprises several correlated aspects: first, X is unable to cope with the range of phenomena it is supposed to handle (it does not cure what it is supposed to cure; it does not explain what it is supposed to explain; etc.); second, X artificially restricts the domain of phenomena or of explanatory tools, thereby excluding what should be taken into account; third, reliance on the inefficient X as the proper way to handle something imposes on us unwarranted limitations, confines us to certain courses of action or modes of understanding, creates in us what psychologists call a `mental set'.(11) A good portion of the critical part of the texts in my sample is devoted to these (and perhaps other) aspects of the limitations of X.
For example, John Stewart (1995; Forthcoming) argues that `the symbol model' (a) is unable to account for the most basic fact of language use, namely the interactional contact characteristic of natural communicative praxis; (b) arbitrarily excludes from its explanatory arsenal the insights of dialogue-oriented thinkers (Bakhtin, Buber), of ontologically-oriented accounts of language (Heidegger), of hermeneutics (Gadamer),and so on;(c) induces us to think of language in terms of the representational relation, which in turn forces us into a mental set that takes for granted -- rather than questions -- problematic assumptions such as the "two-world" assumption (language on the one side and the represented world on the other), the compositionality of language (which he labels "atomism"), the dichotomy subject-object, etc.
Another example is Dallmayr's (1981), who criticizes current political science for its exclusion of relevant philosophical insights, such as those that can be derived from phenomenology. Still another is Berenstein (1983), who contends that the traditional dichotomy objectivism-relativism (and its cognates, rationality vs. irrationality, objectivity vs. subjectivity, realism vs. anti-realism) drastically restricts our options. Thereby, it forces those of us who do not want to espouse relativism to accept an uncritical view of the objectivity of science, which does not do justice to the complex nature of scientific practice.
Notice that (1) the present kind of critique is itself a matter of degree: there are stronger and milder forms of limitation and confinement; and (2) at this stage the conclusion might be that, even though X has such drawbacks, it is "the only game in town" (to use a phrase dear to Jerry Fodor). The critic need not provide, at this stage, alternatives that would free us from the limitations of X. From a critical point of view, it is sufficient to show these limitations in order to remove the blocking effect they have on further progress.
4. Desacralization. Another, stronger form of critique consists in showing that, in spite of its widespread acceptance, X's aura of necessity, indispensability, or `sacredness' is spurious. A variety of arguments can be used to support this claim. One may resort to history: X came into being in the course of history, at some more or less specific moment; just as it was not there all the time, it is likely to disappear now or in the future. Or to ontogenesis: X is not innate but acquired; hence, under different contingencies, it is likely not to develop at all. Socio-cultural variability may add further support to the ontogenetic and historical arguments: societies other than ours (which are not inferior to ours) do not accept X as a matter of course. By desacralizing X through its historical or socio-cultural relativization, one also reduces the weight of X's authority. In so doing, one is of course paving the way for the hope component: X is not necessary, not ultimately authoritative, and -- as other historical periods and cultures show -- there are alternatives to X. Rarely, however, the "Beyond..." texts rest content with pointing out merely existent alternatives, for they seek to propose a new, original alternative, even when they make use of existent elements.
Skinner (1972) offers perhaps the best example of the desacralization motif, even though he does not resort to the kinds of argument just mentioned. Unlike Freud, Skinner does not proceed in a circuitous way. From the outset it is clear to him that the sacred notions of freedom and dignity, as well as all their mentally infected cognates, are unnecessary theoretical constructs, which a proper science of mind and society can and should do without. The first task is then to desacralize this entrenched web of interrelated concepts that prevents our progress towards better understanding and action. Like Descartes, Skinner is confident that the way to progress passes through the complete overthrow of all the prejudices sanctified by tradition. The obstacle is construed as immense. The imaginary line linking freedom and dignity is just a minor indication of its extension. All sorts of usual and apparently harmless concepts belong to it: intention, purpose, feeling, will, autonomy, value -- what not! All of them are interconnected, however, by a single thread: mentalism. Chapter after chapter Skinner demolishes this huge wall, thereby desacralizing not only freedom and dignity but also "the mind" itself. Once this is done, what lies ahead is a crystal-clear single construct: schedule of reinforcement, which explains everything that the components of the demolished wall were supposed to explain, the latter's entrenchment being finally seen for what it is -- the result of mistaking mere by-products for real causes. Were it not for the fact that hope too is a concept belonging to the wall, we might say that this vision would flood us in a blissful bath of hope.
Let us pause to reflect on the difference between Skinner's and Freud's choices of critical strategies. It stems perhaps from the fact that, while the pleasure-principle is Freud's own creation, freedom, dignity, and cognates are not Skinner's creation, but rather the creation of those who stand in the way of the development of a scientific psychology and of a scientific approach to society and politics. Even if critical of his own construct, and even if willing to abandon his earlier path, Freud must do so in a careful way, so as not to look entirely foolish or unreliable for having taken that path in the first place. Skinner need not have such qualms, and can therefore be much more direct and radical in his critique. Consequently, his trajectory can be much more straightforward. He knows what is wrong, how to transcend it, and also what lies ahead. Freud is much more exploratory in his text. Not only is it not clear to him that the supremacy of the pleasure principle is absolutely wrong, but also it is not clear how to prove it is, and particularly what lies ahead, for the region "beyond" is still shrouded in "obscurity" (Freud 1922: 68). Hence his candid words of caution concerning the status of his conclusions, of which he says: "I do not know how far I believe in them" (p. 76). This is a caution, however, which should not prevent him from exploring that region, "by combining facts with imagination", albeit it leads to proposals that "have only a tentative validity" (p. 77).
While Freud's critical stance seems appropriate to a theory in the making, which questions itself, and builds upon its self-criticism, Skinner's stance seems more appropriate to pave the way to a radically new theory, which does not want to owe anything to its predecessor. Vis-a-vis X, the former is `constructive' because it preserves at least part of its validity, while the latter can afford to be `destructive', because it sees itself as entirely independent of X. This observation could be generalized: the two first types of criticism here discussed belong to the constructive family, the three last ones to the destructive, and the third shares elements of both.
5. Deconstruction. This is the deepest or strongest form of critique. It does not seek only to demolish a theory, a programme, or a paradigm. It goes deeper than that,-- `archeological' (Foucault's term), for it undertakes to suppress the very terrain or need for replacing the demolished building by another.(12) Deconstruction is so radical a critique that it leaves no room for hope. If it succeeds, the absolutely flat landscape it leaves behind has no landmarks left, nothing to go beyond. In its radical form, deconstruction cannot, strictly speaking, be a moment in the Beyond Enterprise. It lacks entirely and deliberately the transcendence motive. It denies the very possibility of a "grand narrative" of progress. Deconstructionists proper do not write Beyond... texts.
Yet, paradoxically -- that is, by deliberately resorting to paradox -- they manage to fit the enterprise. For one thing: their devastating critique of all constructions holds the promise of a construction-free world, a world where subservience to any system, theory, or narrative is perceived as contingent, and therefore as not binding; a world where, potentially at least, we can free ourselves of all bonds. Insofar as liberation is one of the key motives in the hope component of the Beyond Enterprise, deconstruction may in principle play the role of its critical counterpart.
If we consider -- anachronistically perhaps -- Nietzsche to be a practitioner (perhaps the best ever) of deconstruction, we have an example of a Beyond ... text written within this tradition. In his book, Nietzsche indeed seeks to demolish not this or that version of morality in order to replace it by another, but rather to suppress the very need for any morality -- leading to a new phase in the `natural history of morality' which he calls `extra-moral' (Nietzsche 1966: 44). In order to reach this phase, each moral concept is to be abandoned along with its opposite:
Suppose someone were thus to see through the boorish simplicity of this celebrated concept of "free will" and put it out of his head altogether; I beg of him to carry his "enlightenment" a step further, and also put out of his head the contrary of this monstrous conception of "free will": I mean "unfree will"... (Nietzsche 1966: 28-29).
Otherwise, we will remain forever prisoners of the conceptual scheme that binds together all such (and other philosophical) concepts, determining the entire field of possible philosophies:
That individual philosophical concepts are not anything capricious or autonomously evolving, but grow up in connection and relationship with each other; that, however suddenly and arbitrarily they seem to appear in the history of thought, they nevertheless belong just as much to a system as all the members of the fauna of a continent -- is betrayed in the end also by the fact that the most diverse philosophers keep filling in a definite fundamental scheme of possible philosophies. Under an invisible spell, they always revolve once more in the same orbit... (Nietzsche 1966: 27).
Freeing ourselves from this and other bonds requires accepting `superficiality' ("Anyone who has looked deeply into the world may guess how much wisdom lies in the superficiality of men" -p. 71), ceasing to over-value truth ("To recognize untruth as the condition of life" - p. 12), becoming able to laugh at those philosophies that take themselves seriously ("as soon as any philosophy begins to believe in itself, it always creates the world in its own image" - p. 16), and so on.
All these attitudes, along with many other devices used in the text (arguing for opposite theses, multiplying distinctions, resorting to paradox, etc.), are employed to undermine all forms of dogmatism. And this very uncompromising and deconstructive fight against dogmatism is what produces hope. For it engenders a "spiritual tension" that yields "energies" and freedom that can be put to use to go beyond ("with so tense a bow we can now shoot for the most distant goals" - p. 2), even though we may not have a clear idea of these distant goals.(13) Such `constructive developments' of Nietzche's thought as those of Aloni (1991), Kaufmann (1975), or Leon (1965), however faithful to the source, at least testify to the presence in it of a stimulating hope component.
In contrast to the three key properties of the X (cultural salience, definiteness, being an obstacle) that are the target of the critical component, that which lies beyond X, the goal that the hope component has for its main task to further, displays corresponding opposite properties. First, it is new and, as such, cannot be well-known, established, that is, culturally salient. Second, it is open-ended: being a new theory, in its first stage of elaboration, it lacks definiteness and counts as one of its virtues its vagueness and programmatic character. Third, rather than being an obstacle that blocks the development of the field, it frees it from such obstacles and dynamicizes the field by creating new alternatives. The hope component highlights these properties. Alas, as we know all too well, the new becomes old and the open-ended is not immune to sclerosis; hence what once furthered dynamism may become a threat to it. Consequently, the hope component has also as a task to thwart these fears, by at least indicating that the new alternative will not fall prey to the same criticisms that led to the fall of its predecessor.
1. Liberation. This is a dominant theme in Beyond ... texts. The critical groundwork, if successful, is supposed to provide the decisive step in freeing the reader from the hold of the limiting conceptual framework. The author, who has has been able to detect the limitations of a dominant conceptual framework or practice and free herself from them, not only communicates her findings to the reader; she also presents her achievement as a paradigmatic example. The stronger the bonds, the more valuable is liberation per se. Its sheer possibility generates hope. Hence, the stronger versions of the critical component, which emphasize the stronghold of the chains that bind us, tend to rest content with liberating us from them (through critique), without bothering or perhaps even avoiding to tell us what to do with our newly acquired freedom.
2. Developing an alternative. The euphoria of liberation being ephemeral, hope must be sustained through more substantial means. If not a fully worked out new theory, at least a sketch of what lies ahead, along with a path to reach it, is usually provided. This is itself a display of hope, for it shows that one does not believe that scepticism is the last word. Sketching an alternative amounts to interpreting criticism not as an aim in itself, but as a step towards something better.
Depending on the kind of critique levelled against X, the development of the alternative can be presented as improvement, reform, or revolution. Freud's tentative addition of basic tendencies other than the pleasure principle to his theory illustrate the first kind. Fromm's synthesis between Marx and Freud, which is supposed to overcome the limitations of both, may be an illustration of the second.(14) Skinner's replacement of mental explanations by behavioral ones is certainly an example of the third.
Sometimes the development of the alternative is minimal and consists merely in showing that life is possible without the criticized X (Nietzsche is a case in point). But sometimes, in order to escape charges of vagueness, lack of seriousness, and so on, an effort is made to provide a well-articulated alternative, where the differences with X are made apparent (Kaufmann, Stewart). The danger, of course, is to make it so well-articulated as to become itelf an easy target for the Beyond Enterprise (Skinner's theory is a case in point).
3. Transcendence. The hope conveyed by Beyond ... texts is in some cases explicitly (e.g., Cattell 1987, Eildelberg 1989, Aloni 1991, Ferrell 1983, Frankl 1960) and in others implicitly (e.g., Fromm 1962, Kaufmann 1965) related to the hope inherent in transcendentalism, be it religious or secular. I mean by this more than just pointing out the fact that going beyond something is somehow transcending it. Even though many Beyond ... texts purport to reject abstract, idealized, or otherwise `unrealistic' conceptual frameworks, and to bring us `down to earth', they aspire nevertheless to offer a sense of what is really real or important. The more radical this departure of earlier conceptions of `reality' is, the more it brings us to `another world', where truth and real hope are to be found. Breaking away from old conceptual tools, old forms of language, old prejudices, are means to enter this other world, where everything has to be reinvented. Even if all this is done in the name of `science' or `reason', it easily leads to utopia (e.g., Skinner's Walden Two).
Cattell's Beyondism epitomizes this transcendentalist motive. `Beyondism' is based on science, more specifically, on sociobiology. It is defined as
a system for discovering and clarifying ethical goals from a basis of scientific knowledge and investigation, by the objective research procedures of scientific method (Cattell 1987: 1).
Cattell is aware of the fact that the term `Beyondism' may suggest an afterlife, a suggestion he rejects. And yet, he does not reject the idea of a future life, which, though radically different from that portrayed by the revealed religions, is such that "much of [its] emotional meaning for the individual is the same" (p. vii). Cattell's choice of emphasizing the religious aspect of his system, its ability to sustain "the emotional restraints and expectations" built up by Christianity (p. vii), while at the same time claiming that it is derived from science and created by "rationalists, thinking liberals, sociobiologists, and scientifically progressive, educated persons of all origins" (p. viii) is certainly puzzling. And yet, I surmise, it is not contradictory precisely because it caters to the transcendental motive latent in all versions -- scientific, philosophical, or religious -- of the Beyond Enterprise.
4. Reinventing language. A particularly difficult kind of confinement or limitation the development of an alternative to X has to face is the inadequacy of the extant vocabulary (which in fact reflects the conceptual framework one wants to get rid of) for its purposes. One must get beyond the current vocabulary if one wants to transcend the limitations of the conceputal framework it reflects. But in order to introduce a new vocabulary one cannot but use the existing one, thereby risking not to be able to really transcend X. A widespread solution to this problem is to neologize, either by creating entirely new terms or by hyphenating old ones or else by endowing old terms with new meanings. Heidegger -- who is one of the sources Stewart appeals to -- was a master neologist, in all its three varieties. Although I have not been able to check this matter systematically, I believe this technique is widespread in Beyond ... texts.
A more subtle way in which `old' language may undermine the success of the Beyond Enterprise is through the persistence of old root metaphors. Since these metaphors are pervasive and hardly noticed, an effort must be made to become aware of them, to be followed by an attempt to erradicate them, and finally to replace them by new metaphors. As far as I have been able to verify, very little explicit attention has been given in Beyond ... texts to this problem, although some of them no doubt struggle to free themselves from old metaphors and to create new ones. The appeal they make to the old metaphor induced by the term `beyond' reveals both their lack of awareness of the problem at hand and the impossibility of getting rid of metaphor. It is worth noticing, however, that in both respects Freud anticipated much of the current vindication of metaphor's cognitive importance:
[We are] obliged to operate with scientific terms, i.e. with the metaphorical expressions peculiar to psychology (or more correctly: psychology of the deeper layers). Otherwise we should not be able to describe the corresponding processes at all, nor in fact even to have remarked them. The shortcomings of our description would probably disappear if for the psychological terms we could substitute physiological or chemical ones. These too only constitute a metaphorical language, but one familiar to us for a much longer time and perhaps also simpler (Freud 1922: 78).
5. Tu quoque. It is not easy to immunize the proposed alternative from the very same kind of criticism addressed against X. Especially if that criticism has been sweeping and `profound' -- as it is supposed to be. For example, if one has rejected the traditional notions of `representation', `sign', `interpretation', `justification' as components of the undesirable `symbol model', it is not easy to prove that one's alternative conception does not surreptitiously include remnants of these notions. If, in a post-modern vein, one further rejects the traditional notions of truth, rationality, argumentation, validity, objectivity, etc., what kind of support can one claim one's alternative to have? Two possibilities are open in such a case: either not to propose an alternative or else to express total indifference regarding the status of the alternative or account one proposes. Both strategies are used by deconstructionists: rejecting the idea that criticism must be `constructive', i.e., that it must provide alternatives, and ignoring (or even welcoming) tu quoque arguments against their accounts.(15)
Usually, however, Beyond ... texts reveal a surprising naivete concerning the dangers attending the alternatives they propose, which makes them easy prey for tu quoque arguments. A case in point is Fromm (1962). There is a kind of paradox in Fromm's attitude, which -- perhaps unintentionally -- reveals an unexpected meaning in the title of his book -- Beyond the Chains of Illusion. In what is perhaps the best chapter of the book, Fromm analyzes the fate of Marx's and Freud's doctrines. Both began as radical innovations, stemming from radical criticism of prevailing ideas and practices, a criticism that showed such ideas and practices to be illusions. Freud's concept of rationalization and Marx's concept of ideology both described the nature of these compelling illusions and provided the tools for getting rid of them. The fate of their doctrines, however, was to become themselves ideologies. In the hands of organizations (the psychoanalytic establishment, the socialist parties) they became bureaucratized, thereby losing their vital critical ethos. They became instrumental in leading man astray from the very same liberating ideas and ideals that had animated them. In this ideological guise, they became themselves illusions, additional chains to be broken in our path towards liberation. The way Fromm proposes for breaking these new chains is the return to the vitality of the original critical power of the very same doctrines that ultimately produced such chains. Fromm's beyond, thus, consists in going back -- with the aim, of course, of leaping ahead. But -- one might ask -- what will prevent history from repeating itself? Why should we assume that the illusion-engendering mechanism will not, once more, follow the same track? Why should we presume that the process that led to the ideologization of Freud's and Marx's doctrines is entirely due to causes extraneous to the nature of these doctrines, causes that, if removed, will preserve their liberating power? Couldn't the reason for their petrification lie precisely in the fact that they attempted to transcend their critical/skeptical component, viewing it only as a step towards reaching the truth? Isn't Fromm himself victim of another, deeper illusion -- the belief in the possibility of remaining faithful to the ethos both of the liberating power of radical criticism and of the existence and accessibility of truth? It is possible that Fromm's heroic attempt to criticize the ideologized versions of Marx's and Freud's views, while at the same time remaining faithful to their `core' of truth, illustrates an aspect of the logic of the beyond enterprise: in order to really go beyond, moderate criticism coupled with improvement and/or reform is not enough; once you undertake the beyond move, nothing short of full and radical criticism coupled with all-out conceptual revolution will do; for, if you fall short of that, your move will fall prey to a (justifiable) tu quoque argument.
The cognitive and linguistic aspects of our handling of spatial relations and motion has been intensively studied by psychologists and linguists, often within a cross-cultural perspective, in the last two decades.(16) The significance of such studies has been broadened by the development of a theory, largely due to George Lakoff, which highlights the fact that both our language and conceptualizations are, for the most part, metaphorically structured.(17) According to this theory, these structuring metaphors are grounded on an `experiential basis', where spatial relations occupy a privileged position. It is therefore of primary importance to start from an up-to-date account of the linguistic-cognitive treatment of spatial relations in order to be able to explore their contribution to the metaphorical structuration of other domains. For this purpose, I will rely upon the cross-linguistic study of Svorou (1993), which makes use of much of the preceding literature on the subject and focuses on the front-back axis -- which is the one relevant for our purposes.
If one assumes that one of the basic communicative uses of spatial terms is to convey the location of entities, and that this is usually done by way of specifying some sort of relation they bear to other entities, a first distinction to be made is that between the entity to be located -- the Trajector (TR) in Svorou's terminolgy -- and the entity with respect to which the TR is located -- the Landmark (LM).(18) Typically, the relation between these two entities is perceived and linguistically treated as asymmetrical. Such an asymmetry may be construed in different ways. The two entities may be `objectively' asymetrical vis a vis their size, orientation, direction of actual or possible motion, and so on. The asymetry may be induced or projected by a tacit or explicit appeal to an observer who may be the speaker, the addressee, or someone else (Svorou 1993: 9). The asymetry may also be social or cultural: culturally important, frequently encountered,. things stand in asymmetrical relation to less important or less frequent ones. Talmy (1983) has observed that in such asymetrical pairs, the entity usually more likely to be selected as an LM tends to be on the upper end of the scales mentioned above: larger, more frequently encountered, more culturally significant, and so on. The actual construal of the asymmetry will depend upon the reference frame employed by the speaker, and the choice of a particular way of describing a spatial arrangement will depend on several contextual factors.
The term `beyond' characteristically serves to express an ulterior relation, characterized by the following assumptions: 1. The LM is treated as a one-dimensional entity; 2. The TR is located at the region which extends away from the LM and away from an observer (Svorou 1993: 133). The first assumption implies that the LM is normally treated as devoid of intrinsic orientation. The second assumption implies that the region where the TR is located is `projected' through an imaginary movement leading from the observer to the LM (this may be the `movement' of sight). It also implies that that region is `open' to eventual further specification through the context. The ulterior relation belongs, according to Svorou (1993: 170), to the semantic field of the front-region, which includes also, among other things, such relations as opposite and obstruction.
It can easily be seen that most of the observations and definitions regarding the spatial use of `beyond' correspond quite straightforwardly to the observations we made regarding its metaphorical use. The correspondence covers the properties of the "X" (i.e., the LM), of the "goal" (the TR), as well as facts such as the intermediary (and hence potentially obstructive) position of the LM in the path leading from the author/observer to the TR, and many others.(19) But it is certainly the movement element inherent in the very image-schema that defines ulterior that is picked up as the most significant aspect that informs the metaphorical extension(s) we have been considering, an aspect which is highlighted by the reinforcement of `beyond' through a `toward'. This accounts for most of the details of our observations:
1) The field of research is presented by this construction as dynamic, as a process whose dynamism has been temporarily blocked, but will now be resumed.
2) The LM is responsible for such a blocking. Consequently, it is described as a well-defined position that constitutes a sort of static point of equilibrium, as a consensual or at least as a dominant position, which blocks further evolution, because it has led the field to a dead end.
3) While the LM closes the field of research, the TR is supposed to reopen it. Such a feat can be achieved only by a non-consensual proposal, which introduces the necessary dynamic imbalance for getting the field in the move again.
4) The critique of the LM must demonstrate its consensual (or dominant), static, and blocking character. The first requirement explains the tendency to reduce differences between alleged holders of the LM to a common denominator. Such a presentation of the LM is of necessity simplified, and prompts claims by its defenders to the effect that the critic is misrepresenting their positions and attacking a straw man. The second requirement explains the suppression of dynamic or processual components in the presentation of LM: it is a `mature', `fully developed', `spelled-out' position; as a `research programme', it is kept `alive' only through minor, ad-hoc, `degenerative' changes, rather than through `progressive' innovations or reorganizations. The third requirement explains the emphasis on the stifling effect of LM upon the whole field.
5) By contrast, TR must be presented as held by the underdogs of the field, those whose opinions have not been paid attention to because the consensus considered them `bizarre', `imprecise', `unscientific', `not well argued for', and so on. Furthermore, in order to produce the desired dynamization of the field, TR must be itself presented as `open-ended', as a `direction' of research, a `programme' worth pursuing further, rather than as a completely elaborated theory. This explains its programmatic character.
6) The overall result of the dynamization due to the use of the beyond frame is an emphasis on the historicity of theory formation and evolution. The criticized consensual position itself is now viewed as a moment in the historical evolution of the field, rather than as an end point. This explains why even the latest fashionable theories may be challenged by the use of the `beyond X' frame [Beyond Deconstruction, Beyond Structuralism, Beyond Post-Modernity, etc.], suggesting an even stronger "in the move" effect. At the same time, it explains the always present possibility of tu quoque.
7) Just as the critical component which sees in the LM an obstacle is motivated by emphasizing the spatial properties of the movement implicit in the `beyond' construction, the hope component is motivated by stressing the temporal aspect of such a movement. Hope is indeed a propositional attitude or emotional stance that necessarily refers to the future. It also implies that the future is somehow better than the present and past. In other words, the movement from the observer past the LM to the TR is interpreted as having a clear orientation: progress. In this light, the nature of the LM as an obstacle acquires also a temporal dimension: it is perceived as blocking the `course of history' towards upcoming better stages, and portrayed as a `traditional' and `old' position. The TR, by contrast, should be depicted as `non-traditional' and `new'. Its novelty vis-a-vis the LM is a matter of degree, from minor modifications to major innovations -- from small steps to large steps in the path of progress. So too is the kind and amount of improvement it contains, from small corrections of mistakes to full-fledged conceptual revolutions conceived as giant leaps ahead.
8) While progress can in principle be achieved without the need to overcome obstacles, it seems to be hard to separate it from the notion of hope. Hence the deeper entrenchment of the hope component in the Beyond Enterprise that was observed in section II.
Why is this metaphor a `natural' -- indeed, a conventional -- way of conceptualizing the abstract domain(s) represented in Beyond ... texts?. One possible way to answer this question is to treat the naturalness of the metaphor as grounded in `the structure of our experience'.(20) This would require us to answer the following questions:
1. What determines the choice of a possible well structured source domain?
2. What determines the pairing of the source domain with the target domain?
3. What determines the details of the source-to-target mapping? (Lakoff 1987: 276),
by searching our experience for the appropriate `structural correlations' between source and target. For,
there are many structural correlations in our experience. Not all of them motivate metaphors, but many do. When there is such a motivation, the metaphor seems natural. The reason it seems natural is that the pairing of the source and target domains is motivated by experience, as are the details of the mapping (Lakoff 1987: 278).
The first question is relatively easy to answer. The ulterior image-schema is pervasive in experience, well-understood, well-structured, and correlated with other basic schemas such as the source-path-goal schema.
A possible reply to the second question is that there is a correlation between ulterior experiences (the source) and our personal experiences of intellectual progress (the target). We experience the latter as an oriented process, whereby we pass through a set of stages, in an open-ended series. The essence of this process is the process itself, not any of its particular stages, just as the essence of the ulterior experience is its relational character, which can be reiterated ad libidum.(21) Insofar as our personal intellectual progress involves not only learning ready-made concepts or theories, but also creating them, thereby contributing to the progress or motion of a field of research, it is relatively unproblematic to extend the correlation, beyond personal progress, to a field's progress.(22)
It is in the third question that we are in for an interesting surprise. It would seem that the kind of progress that most naturally matches the ulterior schema is linear, cumulative progress. And yet, as we have seen, Beyond ... texts more often than not present a different picture of progress: a process of overcoming obstacles, of being forced to abandon earlier achievements which now block our way and beginning anew. This suggests that the significant details of our ulterior and progress experiences correlated through the metaphorical link are rather those that involve non-linear paths: detours, zig-zags, stepping back to leap ahead, trial and error, etc. There is no doubt that we have such experiences in our intellectual development, just as we have experiences of straight paths and cumulative progress. As we have seen, the Beyond Enterprise allows for both interpretations. But in the majority of cases, it selects the former rather than the latter as its dominant structuring principle.
We could no doubt go beyond this initial exploration of the Beyond Enterprise. For reasons that are beyond my control, it had to be interrupted here. Let me outline a few preliminary conclusions that can be drawn so far from this study. This will help to indicate the larger framework within which I locate studies of this kind.
First we are hardly aware of the fact that the little word `beyond', as used in the kinds of texts here examined and in hundreds of similar ones -- where it often appears as the first title word -- is a powerful metaphor. The reason for this lack of awareness is simply that such a use has become conventionalized in our culture. As a result, it has become remarkably field-independent (as shown by the wide variety of fields covered by our sample). It is, so to speak, a ready-made tool that can be picked up from our conceptual toolbox in order to be easily applied to practically any kind of inquiry.
Second this tool, is not `neutral'. For it imposes a certain structuration of the field of inquiry. Its choice carries with it a `hidden agenda', not devoid of epistemological and ontological implications. One is that the choice of a `beyond' framework favors a view of inquiry as dynamic rather static, as diachronic rather than synchronic, as concerned with both the past and the future. Another is that this dynamic perspective is intrinsically associated with the theme of progress, a fact that endows the Beyond Enterprise with a sort of deep optimism. It conveys the belief that there is always a way -- a tao -- to overcome even the most formidable obstacles to intellectual progress. An additional implication is that the selection of the non-linear path of progress, implicit in most of the uses of this metaphor we have examined, indicates its `natural' affinity -- albeit unawares -- with those epistemologies that emphasize criticism, controversy, crisis, scientific revolution, and other forms of intellectual conflict as the true engines of cognitive evolution.
Third products are not independent of the tools employed in making them. It is only to be expected that the earlier mentioned properties of the 'beyond tool' be mirrored in the kinds of theories proposed by those who engage in the Beyond Enterprise, as well as in their practices. Thus the models or theories they will tend to reject are those perceived primarily as static. For example, `the symbol model' is rejected mainly on the grounds that it views language as a system of synchronically fixed signs, each of which functions as a surrogate for that which it represents or stands for. Those that seek to go beyond it propose, instead, a dynamic view of language, based on interaction, dialogue, the fluidity of meaning and interpretation, and so on. Morever, the inherent optimism of the Beyond Enterprise makes it difficult to reconcile it with theories stemming from the pessimistic theme of `disenchantment' (to use Weber's term). This raises the question of the precise roles and mutual relationship of the critical and hope components. Disenchantment-motivated approaches tend to deepen and extend the critical component, to the point of making hope all but impossible. Beyond-motivated approaches, on the other hand, must sustain hope, and hence their critical components, even when quite radical, always preserve a `constructive' character; as a result, the product -- the alternative view or theory they propose -- may often contain elements of the criticized one, in a spirit of constructive eclecticism. In addition, non-linear view of progress and the historicist leaning of the Beyond Enterprise is, of course, intrinsically anti-positivistic. For a positivist to write a Beyond ... book would be almost a contradictio in adjectio. Almost but not quite. For one thing: Skinner wrote such a book. And this is as it should be. For a metaphor generates a relatively tight conceptual structure and highlights a number of central themes. But the users of the metaphor always have a margin of freedom in its interpretation -- including the choice of those themes they see as more central than others. The advantage of resorting to a metaphor-based epistemological analysis lies precisely in that one thereby abandons the positivist dogma according to which the only philosophically respectable concepts are those precisely defined by means of sufficient and necessary conditions.
Fourth given its widespread and natural use to conceptualize inquiry, `beyond' belongs perhaps to a set of `foundational metaphors' in the Western way of understanding intellectual life. Other possible members of this set are `content' (which rules over the whole domain of meaning), `field' (which organizes knowledge territorially into disciplines, departments, etc.), `conduit' (which controls our views on the storage, retrieval, and communication of information and knowledge), and so on. It would be extremely important to clarify this `foundational status' some metaphors achieve; to analyze their interrelations; and to compare the current Western set of foundational metaphors with those of other cultures or of other periods in Western intellectual history.(23)
1. I also intended to discuss the closely related prefix `post' in such constructions as `post-modernism' and `post-semiotic' (Stewart's term), but due to space limitations this will be left for another paper.
2. E.g., van Gelder (1993), whose relevance to the topic of this book is enhanced by its purport of going "Beyond symbolic".
3. This reminded me that I also have a book (Dascal 1983) in a series called Pragmatics and Beyond!
4. Here too I am representing -- to some extent -- "the symbol model", in so far as I am claiming that a title bears an intentional `message', that the reader is supposed to find out. If you buy, say, Marguerite Duras' L'Amante Anglaise, you expect to read something about the love life of some English woman. When you discover, after going through more than half of the book, that it deals with an abhorrent murder, where no love nor English women are involved, you begin to look for an explanation -- a `meaning' -- for this mismatch between the title and the contents. You may rest content with saying that this is just another gimmick of a Nouveau Roman author to puzzle her readers or to attract attention. But if you look further, you discover some clues as to how to intepret the title in connection with the contents. To make a long story short (for details, see Dascal and Weizman 1990), Claire, the murderer, often misspells certain words; she is interested in plants, especially in "menthe" (mint), and she grows mint "en glaise" (in potter's clay). So, the `real' title of the book -- if you can say so -- is "La menthe en glaise" (The mint in potter's clay) and the actual title is a (deliberate, of course) misspelling of that (both phrases sound exactly alike). Does this mean that the book is about mint cultivation? Certainly not. The book is, broadly speaking, about misspelling: i.e. misrepresentation: about the fact that different persons represent the same event (the murder) along completely different lines, so that no account is an 'objective' rendering of reality. Perhaps this book too belongs to the Beyond Enterprise. Its title might have been 'Beyond Objectivity'.
5. Even though Kaufmann's book does not have `beyond' in its title, but rather `without' -- which might suggest an exclusive focus on the critical component -- it contains also the hope component. Not only does it develop an alternative to what is "left behind", but also emphatically describes it as "new": "...[to] develop a new conception of autonomy -- a new integrity -- a new morality" (ibid.).
6. This is an example of what Grice (1975) calls a conversational implicature. The implicature conveyed by the linguistic order of the elements (as in the title --> subtitle case) belongs to the class of conventional implicatures. For example, and carries a conventional implicature of temporal succession: "They got married and had many children". But this can be canceled: "They got married and had many children, but not in that order".
7. Presumably it belongs to the class of what Grice (1975) calls `conventional implicatures', rather than to the class of `conversational implicatures'. For more details on the notion of implicature and, in general, on pragmatics, see Dascal (1983).
8. For the notions of `layer of meaning' and `entrenchment', see the "onion model" of meaning proposed in Dascal and Katriel (1977).
9. Notice here the interesting asymmetry between X and Y in the title "Beyond X and Y". One of them having already been left behind, it is the other that now requires attention. For further remarks on the addition of Y to the construction, see note 19.
10. This is only one of the many metaphors of movement abundantly used in Freud's book. See section 4 for a quote from Freud on the metaphorical nature of scientific language.
11. Notice here the reliance on another spatial metaphor, that of the container, whose impact on certain fields may be devastating. For an analysis of one of such fields -- the philosophy of mind -- see Dascal (forthcoming).
12. On this and other motives in the deconstructionist ethos, see Dascal (1989).
13. In the unpublished project of a preface, the goal is depicted as follows: "I want to found a new caste, an order of superior men where minds in despair will be able to look for advice; men who like me will live not only beyond political and religious confessions, but who will also have gone beyond morality" [from Werke, vol. 14, p. 414].
14.It is the emphasis on the common ground shared by Freud and Marx that allows for Fromm's synthesis to be developed. This is a further indication of the predominantly "building" (hope) character of the text. There is no attempt to claim that the axis Freud-Marx itself is to be overcome by such a synthesis. Its basic categories are all right as far as they go: 1. the critical mood; 2. humanism; 3. liberating power of truth. What needs to be done is simply to polish this axis, eliminating apparent irregularities ("contradictions") in it.
15. On this last point, see Dascal (1989).
16. See, for example, Miller and Johnson-Laird (1976), Talmy (1983), Langacker (1987, 1991), Levinson (1992), Svorou (1993), Goldberg (1995).
17. See, for example, Lakoff and Johnson (1980), Johnson (1987), Lakoff (1987), Lakoff and Turner (1989), Turner (1993), Gibbs (1994). For applications of this perspective to philosophical issues, see Dascal (1991; forthcoming).
18. This terminology is that of Langacker. Talmy (1983) employs the terms `ground' (= LM) vs. `figure' (= TR), being followed in this by Levinson (1992). Wildgen (1994) makes use of the LM-TR labels.
19. The frequent use, in the sample of texts I have singled out, of the expansion of the basic `beyond X' to `beyond X and Y' raises some questions not handled by Svorou. If Y is conceived as between X and TR, along the line defined by the observer and LM, then the one-dimensional assumption about the LM is preserved. On this reading, X and Y would be sequential steps in the path towards TR. But this interpretation is quite unusual in my corpus of texts. Normally, X and Y are taken to form a line perpendicular to the line observer-TR. Thus, Y sort of enlarges the LM, thereby also reinforcing its obstructing character. This is the case, for example, in Skinner (1972), Dallmayr (1981), Nietzsche (1989), and so on.
20. This `experientialist' way of understanding `naturalness' is not, of course, the only possible way. Lakoff himself admits that the metaphorical structuration of abstract domains of which we do not have existential experiences, must be based on other forms of correlation, presumably logical ones. In fact, the three questions raised in what follows are entirely general, and do not presume experientialist replies. The move, described herein, from the personal experience of intellectual progress to the idea of progress of a field of research (an abstract domain) should be more carefully analyzed in terms of non-experiential correlations. For lack of space and simplicity, I will explore here only the experiential notion of naturalness.
21. Cattell's `Beyondism' seems to capture this purely relational character both linguistically and doctrinally. Linguistically, by nominalizing `beyond', it manages to focus on the relational element, letting observer, LM, and TR recede into the background. As a doctrine, it emphasizes evolution as such (much as Rousseau viewed man as characterized not by rationality but by `perfectibility'), regardless of its particular products at any time, as its main component. The risk of this nominalization-cum-doctrinalization of the dynamic-relational element lies precisely in fixing it, thereby converting it in a non-dynamic factor that is liable to block the very dynamism it is supposed to praise.
22. One of the implications of a general constraint on metaphorical mapping recently formulated by Mark Turner forbids "mapping two distinct senses in the source onto one sense in the target" (Turner 1993: 293). In the case we are considering, the converse seems to occur: one sense in the source (the observer-traveller) is successively mapped onto two different senses in the target (the author and the field of inquiry). The questions that arise are: (a) can this occur not successively but in one and the same occurrence of the metaphor? (b) if it occurs, does it violate a corresponding constraint, thus provoking problems of understanding the metaphor?
23. This article was written while I was a fellow of the Institute for Advanced Studies, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem. I wish to thank the Institute for its generous and efficient support. I wish also to thank Alan Gross, a fellow member of the research group "Leibniz the Polemicist: The pragmatics of theory formation and evolution" (at the Institute), who read earlier versions of this text and provided useful comments. I also thank John Stewart for his patience and helpful corrections of my English.
[After Post-Modernism Conference. Copyright 1997.]