Way back in the pre-Internet days of 1980, George Lakoff and Mark Johnson published Metaphors We Live By. This landmark study of the metaphors we use in daily conversations illustrates the ways common metaphors shape our thinking and behavior. One of the examples often cited is “argument is war.” Ideas are attacked, defended, and shot down. We may even “destroy” someone’s theory or “kill” his or her idea.
A few weeks ago, while watching political commentary on TV, it occurred to me that we not only live by metaphors, but also die by them. This is a broader, and perhaps more significant, concept than our thinking of argument as war. Because the metaphors we use depict the mental maps by which we navigate the external environment, when we use them, we are defining and describing what—for us—is reality. Language is inherently metaphorical, and we use it to represent external reality. In doing so, we create an internal representation of “reality,” a subjective experience or mental map that we assume is an accurate reflection of the external. (Deliberately creating a metaphor we know to be false is a different—and more perfidious—issue.)
As Alfred Korzybski and others have noted, however, the map is not the territory. Even so, mental maps are all we have to talk about. Even when we are talking about objects that actually exist in the external environment, what we say is based on our internal representation of the object: “The white house on the SW corner of the intersection of Main and First Street.” At their best, such representations are a fairly accurate reflection of external reality. In many cases, however, we add something that, while part of our subjective experience, is not actually present in external reality: “The ugly white house on the SW corner of the intersection of Main and First Street.” Although the presence of the house may change over time, its existence at that location can be demonstrated as either “true” or “false.” “Ugly,” however, is matter of opinion rather than fact.
The principal problem with opinions is that, when they are ours, we tend to accept them as facts. Opinions we state as facts become the metaphors we die for. Note how the following metaphors are basically “a call to arms,” pitting one side against the other in a war of ideas:
- The best food-stamp President / Gingrich soldiers on
- budget jujitsu / divine truth-bombs / sparked a firestorm
- being held hostage / a ransom note
- Second amendment remedies / cutting him off at the knees
- dangerous judicial activist / aggressive left-wing ideologue
- Nazis / Tea Party storm troopers / walked in lockstep
- collective bargaining rights / Republicans Declare War on Bank Customers
- enhanced interrogation / torture
- pro life / pro choice
- insurance industry flacks / taxpayer subsidies
The meanings of these and the other metaphors we use in our everyday speech are often lost in our conscious effort to grasp the meaning of what is being said. The unconscious mind, however, makes all sorts of associations that influence perceptions and feelings. What—exactly—is a food-stamp President? What kind of activity is implied by “soldiering on”?
Korzybski was originally (c. 1933) motivated to write his landmark [note the metaphor] introduction to general semantics, Science and Sanity, because he thought that we could live saner lives by making clear the relationship between our mental maps and the external territory. A reference to the white house on the corner (if it really is white and on the corner) is not likely to create conflict. A reference to the ugly white house on the corner, however, is likely to create at least some conflict. The architect, builder, and owner of the house might well want to argue about the pejorative description of the house. The owner may, in fact, think of it first as “home” and only secondarily as “a house.”
“Hate speech” is called hate speech not only because it is hateful, but also because it encourages listeners to hate the object(s) being depicted. If I refer to the ugly white house, it is not only because I see the house as “ugly,” but also because I expect and desire you to see it as ugly as well. “Ugly” could easily become a metaphor to die for. The Center for Nonviolent Communication encourages us to focus on what we and others are observing separate from our interpretations and judgments. The main thing is to begin noticing the difference between observations and interpretations. Note the difference, for example, between saying, “five people” and “a small group.” The “small” group is one step deeper into metaphor than “five people.”
The idea is to become increasingly aware of the metaphors lurking in language so that you can be aware of the implied meanings and the degree to which you want to be influenced by them. Remember that the influence can be either “for” or “against.” When you hear that certain politicians are “marching in lock-step,” you may be inclined to agree or disagree before considering the meaning—and the motivation—behind the metaphor. As you become more aware of the metaphors that influence subjective experience, I suspect that you will start choosing your own metaphors with greater care: Metaphors we can live by rather than those we might just die for.
Metaphors We Die By (and For)
Way back in the pre-Internet days of 1980, George Lakoff and Mark Johnson published Metaphors We Live By. This landmark study of the metaphors we use in daily conversations illustrates the ways common metaphors shape our thinking and behavior. One of the examples often cited is “argument is war.” Ideas are attacked, defended, and shot down. We may even “destroy” someone’s theory or “kill” his or her idea.
A few weeks ago, while watching political commentary on TV, it occurred to me that we not only live by metaphors, but also die by them. This is a broader, and perhaps more significant, concept than our thinking of argument as war. Because the metaphors we use depict the mental maps by which we navigate the external environment, when we use them, we are defining and describing what—for us—is reality. Language is inherently metaphorical, and we use it to represent external reality. In doing so, we create an internal representation of “reality,” a subjective experience or mental map that we assume is an accurate reflection of the external. (Deliberately creating a metaphor we know to be false is a different—and more perfidious—issue.)
As Alfred Korzybski and others have noted, however, the map is not the territory. Even so, mental maps are all we have to talk about. Even when we are talking about objects that actually exist in the external environment, what we say is based on our internal representation of the object: “The white house on the SW corner of the intersection of Main and First Street.” At their best, such representations are a fairly accurate reflection of external reality. In many cases, however, we add something that, while part of our subjective experience, is not actually present in external reality: “The ugly white house on the SW corner of the intersection of Main and First Street.” Although the presence of the house may change over time, its existence at that location can be demonstrated as either “true” or “false.” “Ugly,” however, is matter of opinion rather than fact.
The principal problem with opinions is that, when they are ours, we tend to accept them as facts. Opinions we state as facts become the metaphors we die for. Note how the following metaphors are basically “a call to arms,” pitting one side against the other in a war of ideas:
The meanings of these and the other metaphors we use in our everyday speech are often lost in our conscious effort to grasp the meaning of what is being said. The unconscious mind, however, makes all sorts of associations that influence perceptions and feelings. What—exactly—is a food-stamp President? What kind of activity is implied by “soldiering on”?
Korzybski was originally (c. 1933) motivated to write his landmark [note the metaphor] introduction to general semantics, Science and Sanity, because he thought that we could live saner lives by making clear the relationship between our mental maps and the external territory. A reference to the white house on the corner (if it really is white and on the corner) is not likely to create conflict. A reference to the ugly white house on the corner, however, is likely to create at least some conflict. The architect, builder, and owner of the house might well want to argue about the pejorative description of the house. The owner may, in fact, think of it first as “home” and only secondarily as “a house.”
“Hate speech” is called hate speech not only because it is hateful, but also because it encourages listeners to hate the object(s) being depicted. If I refer to the ugly white house, it is not only because I see the house as “ugly,” but also because I expect and desire you to see it as ugly as well. “Ugly” could easily become a metaphor to die for. The Center for Nonviolent Communication encourages us to focus on what we and others are observing separate from our interpretations and judgments. The main thing is to begin noticing the difference between observations and interpretations. Note the difference, for example, between saying, “five people” and “a small group.” The “small” group is one step deeper into metaphor than “five people.”
The idea is to become increasingly aware of the metaphors lurking in language so that you can be aware of the implied meanings and the degree to which you want to be influenced by them. Remember that the influence can be either “for” or “against.” When you hear that certain politicians are “marching in lock-step,” you may be inclined to agree or disagree before considering the meaning—and the motivation—behind the metaphor. As you become more aware of the metaphors that influence subjective experience, I suspect that you will start choosing your own metaphors with greater care: Metaphors we can live by rather than those we might just die for.