Printed originally in: Nordicom Review, no. 1, 1994, pp. 65-85. The text has been slightly edited for this version.

 

“The issue is not whether reality exists, but whether there is only one way to describe it in all cases (Lakoff 1987: 263)

 

The origin of documentary: document and creativity

The word documentary in connection with visual forms is said to have been used for the first time in 1926 by John Grierson (Corner, John, ed., 1986: vii) in an article on Flaherty’s film Moana. The word was used as a kind of translation of the French word “travelogue”, that is a film documenting a travel, or the ethnographic film, documenting a foreign culture. But as John Corner states: “the project of attempting somehow to “document” real events and circumstances through mechanically recorded images is as old as the technologies themselves.” (Corner, John ed., 1986: vii). In this respect documentary film and television is closely related to the factual forms of journalism (news, current affairs programmes etc.) and the use of film and photo as evidence. In the words of Bill Nichols:

Documentary film, and ethnography in particular, depend heavily upon the indexical nature of the cinematic sign (…) more generally, it is this indexical relation that motivates the use of film footage as courtroom evidence or, with ethnographic film, as cultural evidence” (Nichols, Bill, 1981: 239).

 

In documentary film and television and in other related genres of a factual nature we expect some kind of documentation with a special and direct reference to reality, and even though factual forms and documentary genres may have heavy emotional impact and may document emotional sides of reality, we expect this to be a fact of the profilmic events and not of a narrative construction of a diegetic universe of the film. In 1948 the World Union of Documentary defined documentary film as:

All methods of recording on celluloid any aspect of reality interpreted either by factual shooting or by sincere and justifiable reconstruction, so as to appeal either to reason or emotion, for the purpose of stimulating the desire for, and the widening of human knowledge and understanding and of truthfully posing problems and their solutions in the spheres of economics, culture and human relations. (quoted from Barsam, R. M., 1973: 1)

The indexical dimension is central here, and the strong referential notion of a more or less direct relation between film and external reality. However, the quotation also talks of interpretation, allows reconstruction, and it is clear that although the words sincere or truthfully has the connotation of objectivity and empirical truth, documentary is also connected with desire and appeal. In a sociological sense the documentary and factual forms have contextual relations to the conventions and codes working in public communication and the creation of public knowledge and public opinion. This is clearly the case for documentary television programs and journalism, but was also a vital part of the strong British tradition in documentary filmmaking from the 1930’s: the aim was to inform and enlighten or even educate the public, but also to create certain attitudes. Basil Wright, a prominent member of this historical movement, in relation to this simply stated that “documentary is not this or that type of film, but simply a method of approach to public information.” (quoted from Barsam, R. M., 1973: 2)

The various historical definitions of documentary film clearly indicate a movement in two directions: the direction of index, document, truth and reality, and creativity, construction, persuasion and propaganda. John Grierson’s famous definition of the documentary genre as “creative treatment of actuality”, seems to combine the two dimensions in one brief form. In his definition of the documentary forms, the concept of story or narrative form and imaginative interpretation is an integrated part of the understanding of documentary as based on raw reality and the real world. Grierson finds documentary film superior to fiction films in the last respect: documentary narratives of reality in his opinion are stronger stories than fictional ones (Grierson in Forsyth Hardy, 1966). American documentarists often make the same combination of narrative and reality. Pare Lorentz talks about documentary as “a factual film which is dramatic” (quoted in Barsam, R. M., 1973), and Willard Van Dyke defines it as a film where “dramatic conflict represents social or political forces rather than individual ones”. Documentary is given epic quality, but at the same time Dyke ties documentary to “real people, real situations – (…) reality” (quoted from Barsam, R. M., 1973: 2).

Some of the characteristics attached to documentary seem to cross the line between what in common sense separates fiction from non-fiction. The American film maker Philip Dunnes defines documentary as a film of “experimental and inventive” nature, which may “even employ actors” and in which “fantasy or fact” may be the stuff, and which “may or may not possess a plot”. Documentary in his opinion is an “idea-weapon (…) an instrument of propaganda” (quoted from Barsam, R. M., 1973: 2). In the light of this, some prefer to make a main-distinction between fiction film and non-fictional films, making the basic stuff on which the film is based and the reference the crucial distinction: non-fictional films are based on reality and fact. Documentary film is then a special form of non-fiction film along with for instance factual films, travel films, educational films and newsreels (see for instance Barsam, R.M., 1973).

In many ways however, the history of definitions of the documentary film seem to indicate the dominance of a much too empirical, simplistic and objectivistic paradigm of how people and films relate to reality. There is too little focus on the central question in focus in this paper: to what extent can the difference between documentary/non-fiction genres and fiction genres be said to rely on differences on a textual level; how can we define the relation on a cognitive level; and to what extent can the difference be said to rest on pragmatic and contextual factors. The pragmatic dimension of documentary is tied to the question of a specific communicative contract of documentary, the different institutional practices, that separates this contract from the fiction contract. The cognitive dimension has to do with the theory of schemas and the cognitive theory of metaphors, the organization of the mental framework, that we use in our actions and interpretations, formed by our body and perceptual capacities, but also acquired through experience. In a cognitive perspective many of our mental activities do not seem to respect any distinction between fiction and non-fiction or between fiction and real life. On the contrary: basic functions of our mental framework are at work in a similar way whether we are confronted with visual cues in fiction or non-fiction film or in real life situations. There is no doubt that the distinction between fiction and non-fiction is essential to our way of relating to the world and to communication, but the question is on what level and basis this distinction is made and is important.

Against objectivism: the cognitive dimension of metaphor and imagination

In his seminal work Frame Analysis (1974), Erwin Goffman is very polemic towards empiricism and the attempt to define reality in the sense of what is real and what is not, or what is true or false. Instead Goffman turns to a more phenomenological and pragmatic tradition in which we “instead of asking what reality is (must) italicize the following question: Under what circumstances do we think things are real? The important thing about reality (…) is our sense of its realness.” (Goffman, Erwin, 1974: 2). Goffman’s point here is not, that the real world in the physical sense of the word is non-existent outside our mind, nor that the distinction between things we regard as real and things we do not accept as real is not important. Goffman’s observation can rather be regarded as an example of a pragmatic and cognitive theory of how we relate to the world and to visual or linguistic constructions and representations of the world. There is no objective reality that we can reach directly, it will always be mediated and formed by the context and mental framework.

One aspect of Goffman’s approach is to dismiss the notion of reality and truth as such and to replace it with what Alfred Schutz in 1945 called “multiple realities.” Instead of reality “an sich” we have reality for somebody or we may even say, that we have different kinds of reality each with their “style of existence” or “cognitive style”. Life is made up of situations and strips of life with a special kind of framing, and it is difficult to point to any primary reality or any clear hierarchy in our sense of reality. However, Goffman’s theory of framing also tells us that in order to interact and communicate we have to have frames, codes, conventions in our interaction with each other, with texts and films and with reality. Otherwise we would not feel any continuity in our daily lives – and we certainly do. Our communication works, we often get intersubjective contracts on a micro or macro level. In our everyday life and communication we have a highly developed ability to shift frames and enter into various institutionalized practices: reading newspapers, reading novels, going to the movies, watching the news, going to work, conversation in the family and so on.

Pragmatic and cognitive approaches reject what you might call “objectivist theories of meaning and rationality” (Johnson, Mark, 1987: xxii). Objectivism is closely related to the representation theory of how to define fiction vs. factual forms and documentary forms. In objectivism and representational theories, the argument goes something like this: “Meaning is an abstract relation between symbolic representations (either words or mental representations) and objective (i.e. mind independent) reality. These symbols get their meaning solely by virtue of their capacity to correspond to things, properties and relations existing objectively in the world” (Johnson, Mark: 1987: xxii). In such a theory fiction is equal to pure imagination, illusion or even lie, and even documentary and factual forms, defined in principle as objective representation of reality, may have problems with the correct reference or mirroring of the mind independent reality. Against the objectivistic and representational theory Johnson points to the fact, that:

Whether it be for human events or for words and sentences (including visual forms, IB) meaning is always meaning for some person or community. Words do not have meaning in themselves; they have meaning only for people who use them to mean something (…) The Meaning of the symbol stems from the imposition upon it of a certain intentionality, which is always a matter of human understanding. Intentionality is the capacity of a mental state or of a representation of some kind (concept, image, word, sentence) to be about, or directed at some dimension or aspect of one experience(…)meaning is always a matter of relatedness (as a form of intentionality). An event becomes meaningful by pointing beyond itself to prior event structures in experience or toward possible future structures.” (Johnson, Mark, 1987: 177)

The quotation may be said to support a semio-pragmatic approach to communication, as it has been proposed by Roger Odin (1983) and Francesco Casetti (1990), and social semiotics (Dines Johansen 1993). This is related to the pragmatic dimension of the communication contract, but it also supports the cognitive dimension and the importance of our dynamic use of schemas in relation to real world events and to communication in either words or moving images.

It is often claimed about the distinction between fiction and factual forms, that the factual sign/symbol is metonymic/indexical and that the fictional sign is metaphorical/symbolic, or it may even on a different level be said that fictional forms work with things related more to feelings and the imaginary, whereas factual forms address the rational citizen. But this is a question of convention and degree, rather than of nature. Mark Johnson’s argument in The Body in the Mind and in Johnson and Lakoff’s book on Metaphors we live by is that metaphorical ways of reasoning and the use of embodied image-schemata play a major role in our whole way of constructing meaning and experiencing the world. In so far as this penetrates the division between science and art, between rational and emotional ways of thinking, and since this means the elevation of imagination to a very important and general aspect in our mental model- and meaning-building, this is also a factor to be considering in dealing with documentary forms and fictional forms.

In Lakoff’s and Johnson’s theory of metaphors, they try to define a third way, experientalism, between objectivism and subjectivism. Metaphoric ways of understanding pervade our whole reality and our conceptual system is grounded in basically three domains of experience: body-experience, interaction with physical environment and other people, and communications in culture. Each of these basic domains form experiential gestalts, coherent organizations of experience, that form the basis of structured, recurrent concepts and metaphors. The theory of experiental gestalts rejects the objectivist theory. According to objectivism, objects, experiences, texts, and other forms of communication are characterized by inherent properties, that may be categorized in taxonomic, logical, structural sets of properties. But for Johnson and Lakoff this is only a minor part of the experience of reality, language and communication. Most of our experience is most likely organized as interactional properties, where metaphorical connections play an important role, and where we form categories by using prototypes, rather than logically defined categories (Lakoff and Johnson, 1980: 119-120).

This kind of approach has important consequences not only for linguistic analysis, which is the main area for Lakoff and Johnson, but also for the general approach to genre and to visual communication. Genre in the form of basic genres like fiction and non-fiction, and subgenres like the different forms of fiction-films or documentary films, should be regarded as prototypes rather than fixed categories, and communication of course basically is an interactional activity, where inherent properties are less important than experienced ones. In other words:

Concepts are defined by prototypes and by types of relations to prototypes. Rather than being rigidly defined, concepts arising from our experience are open-ended. Metaphors and hedges are systematic devices for further defining a concept and for changing its range of applicability.” (Lakoff and Johnson, 1980: 125).

Documentary forms are without doubt in our prototypical understanding of communication related to concepts like truth and knowledge. In his review of Metz’ book L’énonciation impersonelle ou le site du film (1991), Roger Odin defines different modes of reception: the private mode, the fictional mode, the documentary mode, the aesthetic mode, and the artistic mode. He points to the fact that the context of a given film to a large degree determines the mode of reception, that is the framing of the reception is important (Odin, Roger, 1992: 207). Following that he says, that these different modes result in a very different construction of the enunciative structure of the film:

To watch a film in a fictional mode means constructing a form narrative enunciation where you are absorbed and forget the normal reality. To watch a film in the documentary mode implies to construct an enunciation and discourse in which you relate to questions regarding the films relation to a direct reality and to what is true or false

(Odin, 1992: 207, my translation and italics).

 

There is a good correspondence between this semio-pragmatic point of view and the cognitive, semantic approach to the category of truth. What Odin and the whole pragmatic theory makes clear is that there is no essential or objective way from structures of signs to the referent in reality or to the meaning or truth of a given genre. There are different prototypical ways of constructing genres, that are related to prototypical constructions of reception. Truth and reference are not inherent properties in communication, but aspects of interactions with the world based on our experience. However, going from an objectivistic concept of truth to an experientalist theory of truth does not mean to exclude the importance of truth from our life or our communication, it means defining the cognitive dimensions that determine how we approach reality and questions of truth. We base our daily life on what we consider to be true and certain, we act, interact and communicate in god faith and in accordance to principles of sensemaking and cooperation. But the basis of this truth and trust is so natural to us, that it is difficult to be aware of it. However, basically we have different forms of truth, because truth is dependent on categorisation. According to Lakoff and Johnson, this dependency can be defined in at least four ways:

  • truth in any communicated sense is only true relative to some understanding of it
  • understanding involves human categorization of an interactional and functional way based on experiences
  • truth in any communicated sense is relative to the highlighted dimensions, a shift in focus may change the truth or meaning communicated
  • categories used to define or frame communication are neither fixed nor uniform, they are based on prototypical resemblance, and prototypes are adjustable to both contexts and new aspects and experiences (Lakoff and Johnson, 1980: 165-66)

One of the basic aspects of visual communication, compared to linguistic forms of communication, is that both fictional forms and documentary forms have iconic features, they resemble our perception of daily reality. This means that in film and television, more than in other forms of communication, the mental processes in constructing and decoding a film to a large degree make use of every day perception and mental image schemas. One of the main points in the cognitive-pragmatic and experientalist theory is that the traditional concept of correspondence and realism is problematic. Resemblance and correspondence are of course relevant aspects in the sense that communication is about something which we presume exists or corresponds to something in our known world.

Communication must make sense to our experience of reality in the broadest sense – whether we talk of fiction or non-fiction. But this meaning and correspondence cannot be defined in any objective or absolute sense: it is relative, specified and partial and dependent on our framing, understanding and experience. The same goes for our sense of realism. Realism can only in a superficial way be defined as a match between signs and reality, because it is always mediated through culture and through our built in or acquired mental forms. Johnson and Lakoff’s attack on objectivism and the classical realism is in fact an attack on the deep-rooted western dualism between rationality, emotion, and imagination, a dualism often repeated in the definition of fiction vs. non-fiction. However, if metaphorical, metonymic and image-based concepts are basic to our whole way of reasoning and communicating, then this dualism is false.

Lakoff and Johnson’s definition of metaphor as “imaginative rationality” is in itself a metaphor for a way of defining fiction vs. non-fiction. It rejects the traditional dualistic approach, for instance in psycho-semiotic theories of the imaginary signifier, or the classical Freudian definition of dreams and art. Perhaps it is no coincidence then, that documentary forms have been defined – by those making documentaries – as “creative treatment of actuality”, signalling this metaphorical relation to documented reality. The analysis of how documentary genres work is one way of focusing on communicative and cognitive dimensions that transcends the traditional dualism.

“Night Mail” – information and metaphor

Basil Wrights classical documentary Night Mail (1936) is an excellent example of a documentary, where a creative treatment of actuality takes place, and where documentation of a piece of reality is embedded in a metaphorical and lyrical use of image, montage and sound (both music and words). The opening sequences of the film give us a number of pragmatic cues indicating a reading-context and genre-frame of documentary nature. The sender is identified as GPO (General Post Office) and instead of a list of characters we are simply told, that this film is made by Basil Wright with “Workers of the travelling Post Office” and “Workers of the Railway”. The understanding of these institutional signs depends on both our pragmatic, contextual knowledge of the world and our textual schemas.

The film – which lasts 25 minutes – cannot in any way be said to follow a canonical, narrative structure, but on the other hand it cannot be said to follow the classical form of an argument either. It is not an instructional film or straightforward informational film. The macrostructure of the text is the travel, and the identification between the film and its spectator in a cognitive sense rest both on our ability to use textual, documentary schemas and our ability to apply our schematic knowledge of travelling by train and the associations attached to that in the decoding of the film. At the same time however, the spectator will probably also try to establish assumptions about the intentions of the sender to make the film: what kind of message is imbedded? Included in the macro-frame of the film we also find reference to schematic knowledge of typical work-routines and the form of communication in modern life. But on the more local levels of the film text we can identify at least three prototypic structures with distinct visual style and meaning, that may activate different forms of mental schemas.

First of all, we have scenes and situations where workers are filmed on actual locations performing their daily work routines. The scenes have bits of dialogue and natural reality sound. Given the framing of the film as non-fiction, we easily identify the scenes as filmed reality or reconstructed reality, but there are no textual indication allowing us to judge the fictional or non-fictional character of the scene. They might just as well be scenes from a narrative, English fiction film, in fact they have the nature of small pieces of a narrative, diegetic universe. Cognitive processes in relation to these parts of the film may thus in part resemble processes characterizing fiction.

Secondly, we have prototypical scenes with the same kind of structure as the first, but with a more direct informational and factual intention. Here a male voice-over explains the visual scenes as part of a social process of cooperation and communication. We are informed about time and place and we are told about the functions and processes attached to “the travelling post office”. In a strict sense this can be identified with the structure of an argument, where the words explain and the pictures document. This kind of direct address in various forms – the anchor person in news or the journalist speaking directly to us from the field – is prototypical for factual presentations. The mere existence of a voice-over narrator however is not in itself a sign of non-fiction, as Sarah Kozloff has showed in her study of “voice over narration in American fiction film” (Kozloff, Sarah, 1988). But the linguistic nature of the voice over and the direct relation between images and voice over will normally – given the right framing – make us assume, that this is a documentary presentation.

Finally, we have extended prototypical examples of metaphorical and lyrical montage. The filmed elements of reality are still the same, they have the indexical nature of documented reality. But from the start of the film we experience small strips of another kind of rhythmic voice-over spoken in verse (by the English poet W.H. Auden). The spoken verse is underlined by music in adapted rhythm and with changing images of the train, the workers, the nature, the cities, the industries and the telephone wires cut in the same rhythm. This third layer of textuality is increasing in importance and extension during the film, reaching a sort of crescendo approximately 20 minutes into the film. In this way it is given the status of conclusion. The spectator is therefore confronted with a gradual movement away from a basically direct and commented form of a constructed representation of reality to a metaphorical form, a movement from a seemingly direct and determinate reference to a more indirect and indeterminate.

The translation of the metaphor is dependent on the spectator’s stock of metaphorical and schematic knowledge of the world. The text helps and builds up cues, that finally interact in a message concerning the importance of communication, human cooperation and technology in modern society. The train, the mail, the telephone wires interact with the images of nature, city and industry. But without schematic basis in both extra-textual experience and inter- textual experience, this textual construction of meaning does not take place. The example demonstrates on the one hand the pragmatic and cognitive dimensions of interpretation of meaning and reality status, and on the other hand the fact that metaphoric dimensions are clearly not only at work in fiction – they are a vital part of our whole understanding of reality.

Reference in fiction and non-fiction

It follows from this then, that the difference between a fiction film and a documentary film is not whether it is a true representation of reality or not, or whether it is about our external reality as such or not. In almost any visual communication there is some kind of resemblance with our known everyday reality, and fiction certainly gets its fascination from the fact, that it is about our reality, though in a special way. The American film theorist Edward Branigan therefore claims that sometimes you may read a given film in a meaningful way both as fiction and non-fiction. Both responses may be considered real in as far as they make us relate what we see to our daily life, our experience of the world.

Normally we will not perform fictional readings of documentary films, but under certain contextual circumstances we may switch between modes. As Odin (Odin, Roger, 1983 and Stam, Robert, et al., 1992: 214) has argued, fictionalization is a semio-pragmatic process with a number of interacting operations: figurativisation, diegeticisation, narrativisation, demonstration, belief, mise-en-phase and fictivisation. But this fictionalisation process may be blocked because we come to the film without sufficient context and knowledge, or because we may zap into a programme, that is already half finished. Non-fictionalization is only in principle the opposite of fictionalization, but as Odin points out more likely a sort of blocking of some of the usual processes of fictionalization – seldom all of them. In any case – apart from the semio-pragmatic aspect – the cognitive dimension tells us, that the mental process of decoding fiction and non-fiction pictures may have much in common on a certain basic level – for instance character-reading and identification.

Metaphorical mechanisms thus have pervasive influence on our mental and communicative practices, but narrative structures are of equally basic importance to all areas of communication and understanding. Not only the semiotic tradition but also the cognitive tradition tells us, that narrative structures and narrative comprehension mechanisms play an important role in natural language, in fiction, in news, in documentaries and in the reading of real-life situations. We construct stories all the time, and we look for narrative clues in order to be able to make sense of things.

To look for the distinctive difference between fiction and non-fiction in specific textual features related to either narrative structure vs. non-narrative structure, in the use of narrator or in stylistic features, therefore will lead nowhere. Obviously, we can define textual elements that will usually be more dominant in non-fiction than in fiction, for instance the use of interview or a narrator with direct address to the spectator. But it will always be possible to find examples to contradict the general tendency. As we have seen the question of truth and reference also create difficulties, when used in too abstract and objectivist sense. In conclusion Branigan says:

Thus, neither truth-claims nor rhetoric can be taken as features that distinguish between fiction and non-fiction. Rather my argument will be, that the method or procedure for making decisions about assigning reference is different in each case even if the results are the same (i.e., knowledge about some condition in the world)” (Branigan, 1992: 193).

Branigan then defines the difference not in essence and aesthetics, but in the context and mental procedures determining the way the reference to a meaningful reality is made:

Fictional terms denote real things, though not determinate ones (…) A fiction does not determine exactly which object it represents, and this openness is what distinguishes fictional reference from other sorts of reference (…) to interpret a symbol fictionally is to operate in a precarious, intermediate zone between sets of possible references (open functions) and a specific reference (…) Considered as a cognitive activity, fiction is a complex way of comprehending the world in which one is first required to hold open sets of variables while searching for a reasonable fit between language and lived experience, between sets of symbols and acts of the body (…) fiction is a partially determined reference which is initially neither true nor false, its usefulness must be found and determined” (Branigan, 1992: 194 -196).

In fiction we have an open kind of reference, which has to be decided and worked out, and in fiction the process of relating the visual events to the profilmic events is not the normal procedure. Rather the viewer tends to construct a post-filmic reality in which structures of the film are discovered and translated. Branigan – just like Lakoff and Johnson and Odin – defines reference, not as a product of objective processes and features of the text in itself, but as a product of human design and use, “based on the rules, habits and conventions of a community of individuals.“ (Branigan, 1992: 197). In all forms of reception there is therefore more than one translation to a meaningful world and more than one kind of reference, but perhaps this is more the case for fiction than for non-fiction. However, there are not endlessly many translations and receptions, since basic mental processes and mental schemas tend to be in function also. Variations occur, but on the basis of often common and shared views and perceptions, otherwise communication and understanding would be impossible.

In the typical documentary film on the other hand, we assume that there is a more direct and determined and causal relation between the film pictures and the profilmic event. More important, although a documentary film is also constructed and not a copy of reality, the mental activities in the reception of a documentary film may depend more easily on what Branigan calls the “social conventions and categories of causality in a community.” (Branigan, 1992: 204). There seems to be a more direct way of reference in documentary and other non-fiction forms, because documentary films address us, as already pointed out, as members of a more defined community, and usually with a more precisely defined public theme. As a consequence of this difference, the degree of openness and indeterminable character built into a fictional text might be said to demand a more dynamic use of prior knowledge structures and mental frames and schemas, it puts a delay and expansion on the degree of instant framing and schema-use (Branigan, 1992: 195).

The indexical and iconic nature of documentary film makes it more common to suppose, that spectators will try to make direct assumptions about the profilmic reality and its relation not only to the filmed version, but also to the public and private reality of daily life. In fact, one of the main points of documentary fascination, besides the desire to know, probably is the authenticity-effect. When confronted with strong scenes in fiction film, war and murder for instance, we probably use the same kind of mental and emotional procedures in our reading, as in documentary film. But in the case of fiction we add a frame of as-if, whereas in documentary we establish another kind of real-link reference.

Schema-theory and documentary

In cognitive schema-theory the concept of “default assumptions” play an important role. In his book on cognitive psychology The Society of Mind (Minsky, 1985), Marvin Minsky deals with the concept of frame. His definition of frames has much in common with the concept of prototype and Goffman’s concept of frame: “A frame is a sort of skeleton, somewhat like an application form with many blanks or slots to be filled. We’ll call these blanks its terminals; we use them as connection points to which we can attach other kinds of information.” (Minsky, Marvin, 1985: 245). A frame then connects our general knowledge and experience with particular instances of representations, objects or situations. When we see a particular sequence or scene in a movie or enter a room in real life, we instantly recognize and interpret the whole set of visual cues and objects: we make sense of or recognize what we see and translate it to familiar terms. This process in cognitive terms is based on the fact that “each perceptual experience activates (…) frames – structures we’ve acquired in the course of previous experience. We all remember millions of frames each representing some stereotyped situation.” (Minsky, 1985: 244).

Given the impact and quantity of impulses we get, in reality and in watching tv and film, a lot of our perception of the world has to be done on a more or less non-conscious way based on firmly established schemas or scripts. We use the phrase to watch film and television, but in fact visual communication is only one aspect of many: visual cues can be found in the system of montage and the composition of the single shot, and audio signals are received as both sounds, music and linguistic information, and besides that interpersonal and interactional information is very important together with the reading of body language and facial impressions. Default assumptions then is what helps us quickly to process these multiple forms of information. They fill out what is missing to form a typical representation or meaning and they help us select and focus on what is important and what is less important. Through default assignments our mental frames are constantly set to work when we interact with the world and with communication. Frames and default assumptions allow us to reason, generalize and to predict, foresee or deduct what may happen or has happened. Since frames are fuzzy categories dominated by default assumptions, we often have to adjust them or reorganize them, when we are confronted with new experiences or new forms of communication (Minsky, 1985: 245 and 246).

Minsky’s concept of frame resembles the concept of schema very much. This concept has been used especially by Schank and Mandler (Mandler, 1984 and Schank, 1990) in the analysis of how narrative structures works in our memory. Mandler works with a basic story schema and with event schemas and scene schemas. Experiments show that people have mental and cognitive structures that are made up by a number of basic experiences with stories and how stories are structured. Very early in life we are able to recognize a basic story structure and to use it in both production and reception. The same goes for a number of events and scenes organized as thousands of experiences with specific and generalized events and scenes. We carry a catalogue of event- and scene-schemas around in our minds, schemas that allow us quickly to respond to and understand situations in daily life. We interpret the world and communication on the basis of frames and schemas and we tend to choose those that seem to match most readily with what we see. Our schemas and frames may vary according to our experience and daily routines and our prior knowledge of communication forms, so that basic functions may differ from person to person. But it is also clear, that within a given community or a wider culture, story, event- and scene-schemas are shared structures.

We use schemas and frames on a default basis and on the basis of almost automatic matching. It seems that if our first match does not make sense we start again and make use of more expanded networks of assumptions. Fiction (and probably even more complicated forms of documentary genres, that mix fictional and factual forms) activate large networks of assumptions, and tend in some cases to challenge our default assumptions and deeply imbedded schemas and frames. The concept of genre can be defined as a special combination of expected story structure and scene- and event-schemas and a number of other frames or schemas from experience with communication and real life. The viewing of a given film may be characterized as a constant negotiation between frames and schemas and the cues from the text. Negotiation takes place both on the macrolevel of the text and on a more local microlevel. There are indications in cognitive research, that the establishing of a contract on a macro-level between the program and the viewer is strong in the beginning. Mandler (Mandler, 1984: 55 f) refers to the fact that a number of studies on the pace of reading at the beginning of different kinds of stories show, that people read very slowly at the beginning of a text and then speed up. This may indicate, that it takes some time to establish the main-contract and to get frames and text to work together. But once the main- direction of the story is established, we read faster because we can use our adjusted default assumptions more unconsciously.

Reception of fiction and non-fiction

There has been some empirical testing done on the use of schemas in the reception of both fiction and non-fiction. The non-fiction tested is both television news and documentaries. It is a well stated fact, that when asked about their interest in watching factual tv- programs and films, people will refer to cognitive benefits in a more rational sense of this term: the need for knowledge, for being updated on public matters and public conversation and for information making it possible to act in and evaluate social, political and cultural life (Gunter, 1991). However, when people are asked to retell news-stories or to answer simple questions about information given in news, they often fail or make mistakes. The results show variations depending on peoples acquired knowledge from other sources and their general schemas, and there are also indications that the use of for instance narrative schemas and strong cooperation between visual and linguistic information may improve reception-output. The empirical testing may indicate, that other schemata, than simply knowledge-schemata are at work in even the most factual form of all, television news.

One researcher (Bruhn Jensen, 1987) has formulated the hypothesis, that people often tend to respond to particular news stories through different super- themes, a form of culturally established event- or story-schemas. Along the same line, empirical testing through interviewing (Höijer, 1992 and 1992a) shows, that people use schemata of the same sort when responding to fiction and non- fiction. Höijer talks about our cognitive structures as organised in a complex network related to our experiences: universal experiences (basic to all humans), cultural experiences (specific for members of a more or less defined community) and private experiences (unique for each individual). In one study (Höijer, 1992), she tested the reception of a tv-science magazine program on AIDS and she found, that viewers related to the program with schemata often related to the psychologically and concrete experience on a both universal and personal level.

The identification with characters in the program is strong, and the retelling of the program is detailed and filled with associative processes between program and viewer. The more general, informational aspects of the program on the other hand was not captured in a very clear manner. Despite the factual character of the program, it was clearly a more associative and metaphorical approach that dominated. However, variations in the use of schemas could also be found in the use of schemas, that showed cultural variations, for instance related to professional experiences or very private experiences. But the main result is the strong dominance of universal schemas in the emotional relation to the program.

Another more complicated study (Höijer, 1992a) tests the use of schemas in relation to both serial-fiction and tv-news, and is supplemented by a study (Höijer, 1992b), that also includes documentaries. Höijer defines a number of so-called social schemas among which we find not only story schema, event schema and scene schema, but also person schema, role schema and self-schema, the last three relating to how we interpret and process information about characters in real life and media. She then defines different experience spheres such as the private sphere, the occupational sphere and the media sphere, in which we can define both more general schemas and domain-related schemas. In her conclusion

she says:

The viewers had a tendency to use a mix of cognitive schemas from various experience spheres, and this tendency is valid across genres. At the same time, there were differences between different viewers as well as between different genres, in how predominant the schemas originating from different experience spheres were (…) In order to make sense of a television program, the viewer must find connections between the text and her or his own inner world. One characteristic of the inner world is that it is cognitively organized in fuzzy schemas representing generic social experiences, cultural knowledge and specific personal experiences (…) Which mix of schemas is activated depends partly on central conceptions in the viewers thinking, partly on the text. (Höijer, 1992a: 294 and 299-300).

One of her findings were, that a national tv-serial of a “realistic” nature activated more personal schemas and opened up for referential interpretations, whereas an American soap seemed to activate more general and intertextual schemas and less referential interpretation. Interestingly enough, her findings at the same time indicate, that documentaries activated very emotional and personal patterns of interpretation and schemas, and it was very clear, that people related to the programs as to real life persons and situations, there was no distancing or reference to textual schemas. In fact, realistic national fiction and documentaries seemed to activate a number of equivalent schemas, a fact that underlines one of the fundamentals in the cognitive theory of metaphor, namely that it crosses the line of fiction and non-fiction.

This is also underlined in an empirical study on childrens way of reading either in a fictional or a factual mode (Steffensen, Bo, 1991). The children were given three fictional texts (on a scale from realism to fantasy) and were asked to identify them either as non-fiction or fiction and to give arguments for their choice. The children frequently mistook the most realistic of the fictional stories for factual, and they typically used arguments like:

  • the text gives direct information and enlightenment about the world
  • the text can be used for guidance in how to behave or what to think
  • the text has direct reference to reality and a high degree of truth-value
  • the interaction between text and reader is based on identification with the reality described and its alikeness with the readers reality.

Reality, imagination and identification: cinema verité narration

A number of the problems related to the more philosophical definition of fiction vs. non-fiction lie, as already pointed out in the tendency to create a principal distinction between reality/fact/ logic and fiction/illusion/lie. As pointed out in the cognitive tradition (see Johnson 1987 and Grodal, 1993: 26 f) this distinction is problematic since processes like imagining, playing, simulation and metaphoric structuring are all a vital part of our way of relating to and thinking about the real world and our normal, daily, mental processes and our reasoning.

As Torben Grodal has pointed out all “higher animals are able to perform in both an ‘actual’ and a ‘hypothetical-playful mode’” (Grodal, 1993: 27), and this seems to indicate, that the fictional mode is part of reality and also, that in relating to fiction we use schemas and other mental processes, which are also found in our relation to real life situations. When we use our memory or when we make plans and imagine things we want to do or are in fact going to do, or when the scientist is trying to work out a new theory, in all these cases we simulate and make pretend, we create ‘fictions’.

It is of course important for us to realize when we are in the actual mode, and when we are in the hypothetical mode. In the same manner it is important to know the reality- status of a given visual product, the mode in which it addresses us. However, this does not mean that there is a huge difference in our way of relating to the world of fictional genres and the world of non-fiction genres. The empirical testing has indicated a number of similar schemas and a number of similar ways of emotional identification and referential processes. To say that fiction appeals to imagination and emotion through a direct identification with the story and the characters, and that non-fiction mainly addresses the rational side of reality, truth and arguments is only partly true. In fact, documentaries may possess strong emotional identification possibilities, and strong narrative structure, and the reality-status may even increase the emotional impact.

This is for instance often the case in documentaries of the ‘cinema verité-type’, where the use of experts and direct address is minimalized and characters perform in their actual environment or address us more indirectly. In his analysis of Frederick Wisemans documentaries, Bill Nichols (1981: 208 f) stresses the mosaic, situational, narrative structure of Wisemans films and their metaphorical and associative nature. Though he basically defines documentaries as an expositional form, where arguments and rhetoric dominate, he defines the documentary nature of Wisemans films as a sort of fiction-like mosaic of strips of life characterized by a diegetic unit where spatial and temporal unity prevails. The profilmic reality is framed as a series of institutionally and socially coded local narratives from which the viewer will have to construct the overall meaning and message, without help from the authoritative voice of the narrator.

This tendency is strongly represented in modern tv-documentaries. On Danish television Lars Engels recently finished a series of 5 documentaries on life at Vesterbro, one of the old inner-city milieus of Copenhagen, dominated by working class people, poverty, drugs, violence and prostitution. All the programs begin with a birds eye view over the city by night. The sound of the city is dramatically raised to an unnatural degree: we hear at a close distance but see things from a distant and elevated perspective. Then after some time the title of the program and the credits are announced and the camera is slowly lowered down into the reality, which is to be portrayed. There is no voice over or explanatory narration, but simply the observation of situations, persons and scenes, sometimes dramatic, sometimes just documenting routines of daily life. The camera is a silent witness, an ethnographic eye on the local subculture, and the director only visible through the editing and selection, and in glimpses also as an interviewer. What we get is an impressionistic mosaic of voices, characters, scenes, situations, a fragmented narrative of reality. The film may resemble a social realistic fiction film, and certainly we relate to it much the same way we would if it was a fiction film reconstructing actual life or a real-life observation of that same reality. But given the context we do of course use the frame documentary for it, a documentary with strong elements of emotional identification and use of imagination to fill out the blanks in the glimpses of a story and a personal life we see.

In many ways this example, as well as Night Mail shows, that the documentary genre has a special position inside the general frame of non-fiction. Probably the common sense notion of non-fiction or the prototypical concept of a factual, visual program is the live-reportage and the news-program. None of these programs however can be said to mirror reality or present objective reality and truth. In a common sense perspective people might respond to programs of that genre as telling the truth or reporting reality. But in fact, this is a product of cultural, institutional and contextual processes. The national news represents the mental model of trustworthiness, authority and knowledge, and in the case of live- reportage our direct mental model will be one, that creates the feeling of direct and un-mediated interaction with the reality communicated. Most of us know, that live-transmissions represent a perspective on reality that is framed and often beyond normal perception (in football you see the same action from different angles and repeated in slow motion), and that the presentation of news is a selection according to a specific news-code. But given the culturally defined “spaces of communication” in Odin’s sense (Odin, 1983) we have what we may define as a graded categorization (Lakoff, 1987: 287) of what is factual, defined by our institutionalized communicative genres and acts. And in the case of mass communication genres, news, live-reportage, factual programs and to a certain degree documentaries come close to our understanding of the prototype of factual information to be found also in classroom interaction, courtroom interaction and the like.

Our understanding of genres: schematics of categorization

We can visualize the grading of visual genres on a line reaching from fiction in one end to non-fiction in the other end, or we may visualize the relation as a radial categorization, where all genres can be seen as some kind of overlapping network structure based on the principle of centre – periphery (Lakoff, George, 1987: 287). It is much more difficult to see visual genres categorized in logical hierarchies, since we have basically defined genres as fuzzy prototypes. Documentary genres generally are placed somewhere round the centre of the radial line. They are allowed more rhetorical freedom of expression and “creative treatment of” reality/actuality that those genres at the factual point of the line. Documentary genres have often challenged and moved the frames of normal factual presentation and journalism.

This has also lately been the case with the television-documentary, where a new kind of norm for public communication has changed the line between the public sphere and “front stage” and the access to and importance of “back stage” information (Meyrowitz, 1985). In this kind of modern television documentary, fiction modes and documentary modes are mixed together with basic generic prototypes such as for instance crime, melodrama and romance. In 1990 the Danish tv-documentary director Ulrik Holmstrup was given the TV-price for the program De voksne børn (“The grown-up children”). It is a 55 min. long documentary dealing with the social and psychological problems arising from family life with an often single, unemployed and alcoholic mother, where children are forced to take on the role of parent. The program will no doubt and without problems be decoded and categorized as a documentary by the average Danish viewer. But if we study the operations, particularly in the beginning of the program, we can identify very different processes of this documentization (as opposed to the above-mentioned Odin-notion of fictionalization) and more or less central aspects of the documentary contract. These elements are differently situated on the graded line from fiction to non-fiction.

First of all we have presentation and signature representing what you might call pragmatic and contextual cues. They are part of the borderline-ritual that is an important part of all communicative genres and have been defined in speech act theory as signs of pragmatic macrostructures (Dijk, 1980: 175 f). Is this case the presentation defines the topic and social problem addressed in the program and in fact the genre. The signature identifies both the institution and the genre in typed letters on a blue background, accompanied by the sound of a typewriter and a single musical tone rising in loudness. The signature is metaphoric and combines the sign of the working journalist and the authority of writing/logos/the word with the sign of the institution and its image of objectivity.

Then we have interview-sequences, that is sequences where we see a speaking person in the picture, either an “expert-witness” (in the program for instance a psychologist and a social worker), a “victim-witness” ( the grown up children or their parents) and the “milieu-witness” (persons related to or with knowledge about the cases and the victims). It is a characteristic feature of the program, that the interview-questions are left out, so that the interviews almost all the time appear as statements or personal life-stories narrated directly to the camera and the viewer – seldom though with direct, frontal eye-contact. The use of expert- witnesses is also very limited, and in the very first sequence of the program, an expert-witness, the psychologist briefly identifies the problem, seen from the systems point of view, but she is not identified (name, title on the screen) as such.

So, although the first sequences of the program signal fact and documentary, the discourse is not arranged as a clear hierarchy with a factual voice-over on top. The tendency is to let reality speak out and narrate itself. Another type of sequences is prelude– and interlude– or concluding sequences. It is a series of very complex statements in words, images and music functioning as a kind of metaphoric scripts for the overall meaning of the program. They structure the thematic universe and create an imaginative, lyrical and emotional background for the different stories narrated and showed in the program. Scripts in the cognitive theory (Mandler, 1984) are mental models of prototypical actions and events, and in this case the scripts that are evoked have to do with expectations of family life and the schemata related to roles and processes involving children, parents and growing up. Our normal schemas are challenged and reversed in this program, and a lot of our automatic default assumptions are denied normal functioning. The program has an impact on both universal and personal schemas that will elicit strong emotional identification and memories.

The metaphoric sequences are used for the first time right after the sequence with the psychologist. We see a peaceful, idyllic landscape with almost unnaturally green pastures, yellow flowers, trees, a blue sky and a landscape with one road. The pictures are underlined by classical, soft guitar- music. After a short while a female voice-over, identified on the screen as “Dorte, 23 years” starts telling the story of her former life as a grown-up child of only 8 years of age. As she speaks a little girl trying to master a much to big lady-bike comes into the picture, following the road she continues with great difficulty towards the top of a little hill. Dorte concludes her story with a remark about how the authorities came into her life, and as she says “that was the first time anyone ever bothered to listen to my story”, the little girl on the bike reaches the top of the hill, and where she disappears the title of the program rises like the sun.

The rhetorical richness and the potential frames and schemas evoked in this little piece of visual narrative is as complex as a piece of fiction, although the macro-frame is undoubtedly documentary. The relation between words, music and visual metaphors can be defined both as a typical, factual relation (words determine visuals) or a typical fictional (a diegetic universe of an action to be translated to real life). And these kinds of sequences are used through the program as interludes, whenever there is a shift in discourse. The sequences may vary slightly in style and content, but in the concluding metaphorical sequence there is a more fundamental change. Here the girl of the much to big bicycle returns, and the prelude is repeated, with one big change: at the end the girl throws away the bicycle and continues on her own two feet. A metaphorical conclusion containing the morale and conclusion of the program.

The main part of the program however is based on two case-stories, the story of the girl Moni and the story of the boy Dennis. Both stories follow a kind of narrative and dramatic structure, and they are told with a form and content pretty close to a social melodrama or a soap. The actual rhetorical and aesthetic form of the two stories vary. If we take Moni’s story as example, then the first sequence of this sub-narrative starts right after the metaphoric prelude described above. First, we start with an extreme close up at the eye of a child (Moni) lying awake in her bed at night. In the background we hear the noises of the big city, we return to the girl, then to the city at night, cars driving, people running, police sirens and flashing lights, a squeaking and swinging signpost in front of a night café. Then we return to the bed with the child, we see another child next to her, we return to Moni’s face and then Moni’s voice starts as an off-screen narrator: “Sometimes she doesn’t come home at night” – referring to the mother. Then we cut to a new scene, Moni, her sister and her mother sitting in their living room, watching tv together. Then finally we hear a journalistic voice-over narrator, telling us about the situation and the persons on the screen. After that we return to Moni’s voice-over narration of her own story, visualized in typical everyday situations. At a certain point the off-screen narration is suddenly changed and we see her as speaking person in the picture.

If a spectator zapped into the program from the beginning of this case-story, he/she would probably have difficulties identifying part of the sequences as either fiction or documentary. However, the specific use of off-screen narrator, combined with journalistic voice-over would work as signs of the documentary frame. But to a large degree this special form of cinema verité narration uses “internal focalization” normally expected of a fictional discourse. The film makes use of identification, metaphor and image schemas in order to create a richness of both internal and external reference to reality, private memories, universal categories and public debate.

Crime-fiction and investigative journalism: Errol Morris’ documentary “The Thin Blue Line.”

In Bill Nichols analysis of film genre and film narration (Nichols, Bill, 1981), he makes a distinction between narrative, exposition and poetics, a division he roughly makes equivalent with fiction, documentary and experimental film. Documentary in Nichol’s sense is tied to non-narrative, to arguments and rhetorical textual strategies. The film addresses us directly and indirectly, trying to persuade or convince us. Relating to the more textual and enunciative level this may lead to the conclusion, that the classical documentary normally presents itself through what Branigan calls “non-focalized or externally focalized narration” in order to stress the public or intersubjective aspects of meaning and reference (205-206). Normally then, says Branigan, internal focalization through a character is not common, and this in turn makes the use of dream sequences, subjective flashbacks, point of view shots rare in documentary. In fact, Branigan sees the process of constructing meaning and making reference in fiction or non-fiction as a difference also of levels in relation to the narrated world and the assigning of authority.

In a way non-fiction places the authority of interpretation at a very high level: the non-fiction mode starts with the assumption, that this is the registration of a specific part of real life, and from there the spectator works his way into the text. In the fiction mode, we are absorbed at the lower level of the diegetic universe and from there we try to construct meaning and story on a higher level. Documentary forms tend to limit the “range of interpretation” through minimizing the amount of diegetic narration or at least to motivate it in a very specific way, whereas fictional forms tend to expand the range of interpretation through extended use of diegetic narration and more different forms of focalization. (Branigan, 1992: 204-205). Again, this is not a difference in nature, but a difference in convention and degree.

In Errol Morris’ documentary film The Thin Blue Line (1988) – dealing with a man probably innocently accused of police murder – the clear line between documentary mode and fictional mode is in fact very thin. Although Morris’ film, just as Holmstrup’s Danish film, clearly guides the spectator into a documentary space of communication, they also both rely heavily on our ability to use basic story schemas and genre-frames most often used in fiction. In Errol Morris’ case it is the combination of investigative journalism and the crime series or police-story genre format that form the overall macrostructure of the text. The total structure of the text can be seen as a very repetitive, arguing story, where different versions and interpretations of a case are confronted, and where the spectator symbolically is given a place as a member of a jury. But the film also has a very narrative and dramatic structure, partly divided in chapters, following events or leaping back and forth in time. One element is also the use of old crime-film- footage of a fictional nature in the explanation of the psychology of some of the witnesses. So, the spectator is left with a lot of narrative clues and has to work hard to construct a coherent story.

In his book Representing Reality (1991) Bill Nichols distinguishes between four basic modes of documentary: the expository mode (the classical documentary with direct address and authoritative message and comment), the observational mode (where the authoritative voice is removed in favor of the mere representation of a piece of reality), the interactive mode (where the maker of the film directly in production and on the film interacts with his object and the characters) and the reflexive mode (where the film and its status as a documentary somehow is involved as a meta-dimension). Often these modes are mixed in concrete films, and Morris’ film is at least a mixture of the observational mode and the reflexive.

The authoritative voice of the documentary producer, or the hierarchy of interviewed voices and “experts” is abandoned, and in fact the film seems to deal with the fragile concept of fact, truth and reality in itself. In one comment on the film Nichols characterizes the stylistic use of oblique framings and angles in the film, the use of extreme close up on persons and objects and the decontextualization and fragmentation of objects and scenes in the film as a clear indication of reflexivity and undermining of the indexical authenticity of the film as argument and evidence (Nichols, 1991: 270 n. 18).

Again, if we look at the first part of the film, the establishing of the contract between film and spectator, the documentation-process is complex. The sender is identified on the screen as an “American Playhouse Presentation” and An Errol Morris film, and the title is presented through white letters on a black background, where the word blue is red and with a horizontal blue line dividing the letters in two. At the end of the film the title is explained as a quotation from one of the police witnesses in court: “The thin blue line of police, that separate the public from anarchy.” The following credits indicate documentary, no characters and players are identified, only the production team. However, this textual presentation, underlined by Philip Glass original, disturbing, circular music also clearly has metaphoric elements, and the play with colours and the title-quotation raises the question, what blue line we are talking about – not police/anarchy perhaps, but rather reality/fiction, truth/fabrication.

The rest of the eight-minute long establishing sequence is divided into the following prototypical forms

  • purely audiovisual interludes ( for instance pictures of cityscapes and buildings, flashing police light, city maps and birds eye view of landscapes, signposts etc.) that have both indexical character in so far as they are related to the case, but also function as symbolic signs of change in discourse or tone or metaphoric indicators of the programs whole questioning of truth and justice in American society. The city where the crime takes place is Dallas, and the Dallas-pictures used are clearly intertextually related to the soap by that name, just as the Kennedy- shooting is mentioned several times.
  • voice over narration by the two men involved as suspects in the case or the police officers involved, with pictures illustrating parts of the story or documenting details of events and scenes.
  • person in picture narration with the same persons looking almost directly into the camera.
  • reconstructions /e-enactments of the supposed events and the crime, either with voice over narration by the to suspects, or the police officers, with different possible versions confronted in reconstructed scenes or just in words, or with only pictorial narration of for instance the shooting of the police officer, where the actual body of the dead, photos and newspaper articles form the basis of the reconstruction.

The re-enactments are repeated again and again in different forms and versions, and both the visual cues and narrative scenes, the statements represented, the supposed pieces of evidence and quotations from press and courtroom- transcripts, all this makes it very likely, that the cognitive activity of the spectator takes the form of a constant testing and re-evaluation of activated schemas and default assumptions. This particular example of a documentary mode does not try to limit the range of possible interpretations, the indexical quality of the images is doubtful and the relation between signs and referent is very indeterminate.

Besides that, we actually see reality presented in several internally focalized forms, there is no last instance of control and no easy way to intersubjective coherence on the level of either narrative or argument. Not until the final sequence of the film – where the second suspect, who is now condemned to death for another murder, and who may have done the police killing, for which the other is serving a life time sentence, seem to admit, that he and the police framed an innocent man – the spectator is given fulfilment for the desire to know. Thus, narrative desire and fictional construction-processes combine with the documentary desire to know and documentary construction – a detective story in documentary disguise or vice versa.

The documentary contract: Pragmatic dimensions of the documentary

It is possible to see the cognitive dimension of audio-visual decoding processes as a part of the pragmatic dimension. What the cognitive dimension tells us is how big a role our acquired mental framework and schemas play in the interaction with texts, and through the cognitive dimension the institutional context gets a psychological foundation. However, the pragmatic dimension of both the documentary contract and fictional contract is not just the result of psychological and mental forms, but also of socially and culturally defined institutional practices. Such institutional contexts have mental representation, because our schemas are based on previous communication experiences. We have prototypes of contextual situations in our mental toolbox. But nevertheless, pragmatic context and contract is also a vital part of textual and communicative practices.

The cognitive dimension points to processes often unconscious or automatic and to more or less universal structures and processes based on the way our brain and body works. The pragmatic dimension deals with general processes of a more conscious kind and defined by more specific textual, social and cultural elements. When we speak of communication in a more sociological sense and genres in communication it is also important to see this in the image of an ongoing negotiation and cooperation between agents and the text in a given context.

The specific form of this communicative process of interaction between a sender, a text and a receiver is what defines a contract in a given genre in a sociological and textual sense. The contract for a talk show on television for instance is both similar to and very different from a gameshow, and a similar relation could be defined for the overall fictional contract and documentary contract. In pragmatic theory communication is a game based on specific rules and conventions in some kind of institutional context, where meaning is the result of interaction, construction and some basic form of generic contract between sender-”text”-receiver (Rorty, 1982: 110).

This pragmatic point of view can be defined on a macrolevel for instance through speech act theory (Searle, 1969). This is the case in attempts to define the fictional speech act (Kjørup, 1978, Lanser, 1981, Pratt, Mary Louise, 1977) or the so-called “Akte des fingieren” in Isers theory of reading (Iser, 1978, and 1983). Also in Teun van Dijk’s book on Macrostructures (Dijk, 1980) we find the definition of textual superstructures, such as narrative and argument, and we find an attempt to define pragmatic macrostructures, that organize different forms of speech acts. However, these pragmatic theories are still very general and mostly used in relation to linguistics and not visual communication.

In Pratt’s and Lanser’s theory of literature and fiction as a specific speech act they start out by trying to define the fictional speech act as either a specific type of illocutionary act not described in Searles typology (representatives, directives, commissives, expressives and declarations). They describe fiction speech acts as “hypotheticals” (Lanser, 1981: 289), or as a kind of “quasi speech act”, that uses the form of normal elocutionary acts, but at the same time suspends the normal rules for such acts. In Wolfgang Isers definition of “Akte des fingierens/pretending acts” he defines this act as the relation between “das reale/the real”, “das fiktive(the fictional” and “das imaginäre/the imaginary”. That is the fictional discourse is a special kind of speech act in a kind of “as-if-mode”, where the normal procedures for the reader/viewers construction of the referent are suspended, and the reference instead is made through the fictional interaction between the real and the imaginary. But where Iser places the fictional, one might add the documentary, in so far as the documentary mode can be defined as a kind of interaction where the difference to the fictional act is one aspect, but where nevertheless, the interplay between the real and the imaginary is also an important aspect. All in all, the results of speech act theory in defining fictional speech acts so far has not resulted in a clear definition of the codes and rules involved. All theorists in the end turn to more fuzzy, prototypical pragmatic and contextual rules and to specific institutional formations of genres, that activates specific decoding activities given the right textual signal:

The fictional signal indicated in the text will not work as such if not specific variations of historical conventions are shared by the author and the audience and understood as such. The fictional signal does not define fiction in itself, but the contract between author and writer, and the conventions of this contract, which the text does not carry as discourse, but as a staged discourse. (Iser,1983: 135, my translation).

The context forming the basis of a communicative contract has a number of important dimensions. The first dimension is the institutional, that is the context defining the sociological and cultural structure of the media and communication situation in general (public television, commercial television, cinema etc.). The second dimension is the intertextual, that is the more specific textual, cultural and psychologic aspects of genres and the relation between genres, that are activated, when we interact with a text. We interact by prototypical expectation, recognition and comparison, and we respond to signals not only in the text but also signals surrounding texts. The third dimension is what we could call experiental, following Johnson and Lakoff’s definition of how we acquire our knowledge, attitudes, concepts etc. from our body experience and our interaction with the world. This dimension, combines our social and cultural experiences and the cognitive structuring of our mind and emotion and thus the frames and schemas we are likely to apply on texts. The fourth and final dimension is the situational, that is the very concrete time, place and circumstances of a given communicative interaction.

What this article has tried to work out in a more detailed manner is the intertextual and experimental dimension of the documentary contract in close comparison to the fictional contract. Both the intertextual and experimental dimension tells us, that a number of textual elements by convention more often are found in documentary, than in fiction, but also that documentary is placed on a very flexible, graded line of generic prototypes ranging from fiction to non-fiction. There are numerous examples of mixing of textual formats, but it is also clear, that our cognitive ability to act in either an “actual” or a “hypothetical” mode constitutes different forms of “realness” and different forms of reference in fiction and documentary. Our mental activity in relation to real life situations and visual information in either documentary and fictional form are often very alike on a basic level, and we use imagination, emotion and metaphoric understanding across these lines. But since it is still important to distinguish fact from fiction, the ability to decide this is part of our mental “hardware”, and as a socially and historically acquired competence it is both a product of cognitive and semio-pragmatic dimensions.

 

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Lakoff, George, 1987: Women, Fire and Dangerous Things. (University of Chicago Press).

Lanser, Susan Sniader 1981: The Narrative Act. (Princeton University Press).

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Metz, Christian (1991). L’ énunciation impersonelle ou le site du film. Paris: Meridiens Klincksieck

Nichols, Bill, 1991: Representing Reality. (Indiana University Press).

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Pratt, Mary Louise, 1977: Towards a Speech Act Theory of Literary Discourse. (Indiana University Press, Bloomington,London).

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Stam, Robert: New Vocabularies in Film Semiotics.  (Routledge, London).

“At rejse er at leve” skrev vores verdensberømte danske digter H.C. Andersen i Mit livs eventyr (1855). Selv praktiserede han i den grad rejsen som livsform i en tid, hvor det var umådeligt meget mere besværligt at rejse rundt i Europa og resten af verden, end det er i vore dage. Hans eventyr og romaner bærer præg af hans mange møder med andre lande, kulturer og mennesker. H. C. Andersen sugede til sig og omsatte det hele til fiktion og kunst. Hans konkrete rejser rundt i verden er et godt eksempel på kulturmødet og dets betydning for os.

Ingen nationale kulturer kan bare leve i sig selv, de indgår på forskellig måde i et dynamisk samspil med andre nationale kulturer: vi udveksler varer, penge – men også ideer, kultur og kunst – og vi rejser, ligesom fremmede kommer til Danmark. Danmark er et lille land, men ved at kombinere vores egen kultur med andre, ved at hente inspiration mange steder fra, bliver vores kultur kun rigere og mere mangfoldig. Danskernes åbenhed er en del af vores styrke. Da DR i 2017 lavede Historien om Danmark var en af de røde tråde igennem hele vores historie: at vi har vandret rundt og hentet inspiration i den store verden, og at indvandringen til og påvirkningen fra det derude er gennem tiden i bogstaveligste forstand blevet en del af vores kultur, ja selv vores gener og DNA.

Det medialiserede kulturmøde

Vi betragter sikkert alle H. Andersens eventyr og romaner som noget utrolig dansk, og det er de jo også, set på baggrund af netop den kreative åbenhed i dansk historie og kultur. Men de er samtidig i lige så høj grad noget som verden har taget til sig, og som alle kan forstå og hente oplevelser i. H. C. Andersen som person og som forfatter er dermed i høj grad et eksempel på et medialiseret kulturmøde: på den ene side har H.C. Andersen som rejsende taget verden til sig, og den har sat sit indtryk i hans sind og hans forfatterskab; på den anden side giver han eventyr og bøger i sig selv anledning til stadigt nye kulturmøder over hele verden. H.C.Andersen er på en gang meget dansk og samtidig meget universel – faktisk er det sikkert sådan, at han netop ved at være dansk får større universel værdi. Hvis vi bare udveksler historier, som sigter mod at ramme publikum i størst mulig grad med det, vi tror de gerne vil have – så bliver verden og vores kultur mere kedelig og homogen. Det er ikke noget dårligt slogan, at man skal leve lokalt og tænke globalt.

Den kulturelle mangfoldighed i vores europæisk mediekultur, mængden af sprog er en kreativ styrke – men det er også i mange tilfælde vores svaghed. Det skyldes, at den amerikansk-engelske mediekultur står så stærkt og fylder så meget i vores film, tv-serier, musik og litteratur. Det skyldes også, at Europa – trods mange års EU-indsats, også på kulturens område – har meget svært ved at nå bredt ud i Europa. Der er en tendens til at vi ser film og tv-serier i stort omfang  fra USA, England, og fra vores egen land, men at den europæiske mediekultur står svagere. Der har siden 1945 været en tendens til at skælde ud på amerikanerne, fordi de dominerer os. Men vi er 550 millioner Europæere i EU, og vi burde måske snarere se kritisk på nationalismen i vores egen mediekultur, og på vores historisk svage evne til at få vores film og tv-serier udover de nationale grænser.

People need stories in order to grasp the inexplicable, to cope with their fate. The individual nation, with its common language and shared imagery, can always forge the personal experiences into one great, cohesive history. But Europe cannot do that (Gert Mak In Europe. Travels Through the Twentieth Century (2007: 829)

I sin fremragende bog In Europe. Travels Through the Twentieth Century (2007) rejser Gert Mak gennem det Europa, som han – med henvisning til EU – kalder den største politiske succes inden for international politik. Han ser de stærke historiske spor efter historiens kulturmøder, han møder mangfoldighed og forskellighed, men også mange af de samme grundfortællinger og forestillinger om verden. Vi er forskellige vi Europæere, men vi har også meget tilfælles, selvom vi ikke rigtig ved det. Vi mangler at blive konfronteret med de fortællinger, som kunne gøre os klogere på hinanden, som kunne bygge det forestillede fællesskab på tværs af grænserne. Vi har lettere ved at se nationale fortællinger og forestillede fællesskaber for os, end vi har ved at se europæiske. Men måske er Mak i 2007 lidt for pessimistisk hvad det sidste angår.

Kulturelle fællesskaber: nærhed og distance

Fra 2013-2016 var jeg en af de tre nationale ledere af det europæiske forskningsprojekt Mediating Cultural Encounters through European Screens (MeCETES), som bestod af en dansk, en engelsk og en belgisk forskergruppe. Formålet med projektet var at undersøge hvordan film og tv-serier og den digitale udvikling påvirkede borgere i Europa, når film og tv-serier krydsede grænserne. Hvilke processer og påvirkninger skete der i medialiserede kulturmøder på tværs af Europa. Vi ved jo, bl.a. fra den amerikanske forsker Joseph Straubhaar, World Television. From Global to Local (2007) at ‘cultural proximity’ betyder meget for vores opfattelse af verden og i vores brug af medier. Vores nationale kultur og medier er dem vi sætter højest. Paradoksalt nok kan man sige at når det drejer sig om film og tv, så har amerikansk kultur været utrolig populær hos det brede publikum. Det vil sige at for mange Europæere er amerikansk film og mediekultur kulturelt mere nært end det europæiske. I spillet mellem det nationale, som er naturligt meget nært, og det fjerne men tilvænnet nære, kommer Europæisk mediekultur ofte til kort.

Billedet af den nære danske mediekultur, som vi danskere klart forbinder os med, den populære amerikanske mediekultur og den noget marginale mediekultur bliver imidlertid delvis udfordret i den bog, som jeg -sammen med de øvrige danske forskere i MeCETES’s københavnske forskergruppe (Eva Novrup Redvall, Rasmus Helles, Signe Sophie Lai, Henrik Søndergaard og Cecilie Astrupgaard) udgav i 2017: Transnational European Television Drama. Production, Genres and Audiences.  Vi undersøgte produktion og distribution af tv-serier i Europa, og fandt et stærkt øget økonomisk og kreativt samarbejde, som bragte mere europæisk tv ud til hele Europa, og til andre dele af verden. Vi undersøgte også publikums holdning til og opfattelse af europæiske tv-serier i forhold til nationale tv-serier. Også her var der en større åbenhed, og vi fik bekræftet at medialiserede kulturmøder sætter gang i øget forståelse af andre kulturer, men også at man ved dette møde får et mere nuanceret og reflekteret forhold til sin egen kultur.

Hvad menes med økonomisk og kreativ co-produktion? Ja, det kan både betyde at man laver historier som baserer sig på et kulturmøde. Tænk på den dansk-svenske serie Broen, som både har været en stor succes i Skandinavien, Europa og resten af verden. Så stor en succes så der er lavet flere remakes på ideen: at en national grænse er mere end en fysisk grænse. Grænsen aktualiserer mere eller mindre tydelige kulturforskelle, men også at der bag dette befinder sig universelle temaer og narrative strukturer, som let forstås i andre dele af verden. Men det handler ikke om at lave kunstige, transnationale historier, for at nå et større publikum, sådan som en af de danske skribenter bag serien, Nikolaj Scherfig, tydeligt siger det:

For me […] co-productions are interesting, if they can help develop authentic stories. It is very important to create co-productions that make stories possible that build on and use cultural and national differences. The fantastic thing about The Bridge was that we did exactly that, and that people in Denmark totally accepted it as Danish and the opposite in Sweden. At the same time, it was a real, authentic, transnational story and reality we dealt with […] There are cultural borders everywhere, and the way we relate to people at the other side of a border is based on some specific local/national differences, but the way we relate is pretty universal, and people everywhere can read their own situation into it. (Scherfig 2015)

Nye kreative mønstre i europæisk mediekultur

Kulturmøder sker i europæisk kultur på flere niveauer, både på manuskriptniveau, produktionsniveau, økonomi, distribution og når publikum møder det færdige produkt. Det som vores forskning viser er, der er ved at opstå nye kraftcentre i den europæiske film og tv-kultur. Man arbejder sammen og støtter hinanden, uden at der sker indgreb i den kreative frihed, som er så vigtig for at skabe autentiske fortællinger, der er forankret i en genkendelig virkelighed. Langt de fleste af de danske serier, som de senere år har fået europæisk succes, Borgen, Forbrydelsen, 1864 og også den dansk-svenske Broen er blevet til med støtte fra flere andre lande.

Som man ser i de to modeller der sammenfattede den danske forskergruppes undersøgelse af produktions- og distributions-mønstre omkring europæiske tv-serier. så sidder England som en edderkop på det hele, hvis vi kun kigger på nationalt producerede serier (fig. 1). Men kigger vi på co-produktioner, så bliver billedet helt anderledes, her tegner der sig en tysk-skandinavisk akse (fig.2). Det skyldes bl.a. at England kun meget sjældent indgår i Europæisk co-produktion – de ser mere mod  USA. De har jo nu også forladt EU, selvom engelske serier stadigvæk er meget populære i resten af Europa.

Fig. 1. Distribution af nationale egenproduktioner

Fig. 2. Distribution af co-produktioner

Medialiserede kulturmøder: lighed og forskel

Det vigtigste ved kulturmøder er i sidste ende hvad det betyder for modtageren, dvs. hvilke nye oplevelses- og erkendelsespotentialer, der ligger i at vi ikke bare ser dansk og amerikansk tv, men også europæisk. Det er et centralt motto for EU, at det handler om ‘unity in diversity’, at Europas mange sprog og kulturer er en rigdom, når det drejer sig om medier, kunst og kultur. Vi kan berige hinanden ved at arbejde sammen, og ved at dele vores kulturelle rigdom og forskellighed. Fortællinger, kunst og kultur er en meget central del af vores identitet og måde at leve på. Det er pointen hos den kognitive narrativitetsforsker Jerome Bruner i Making Stories (2002), som tager det lange evolutionære blik på, og siger at mennesket blev menneske da vi begyndte at fortælle historier til hinanden:

For it is the conventionalization of narrative that converts individual experience into collective coin, which can be circulated, as it were, on a base wider than a merely interpersonal one. Being able to read another’s mind need depend no longer on sharing some narrow ecological or interpersonal niche but, rather, on a common fund of myth, folktale, “common sense (p. 16)

På en måde er vi hermed tilbage til H. Andersen og hans danske og universelle eventyr, som en meget stor del af verdens befolkning kan spejle sig i, og dermed måske forstå sig selv på en ny måde, samtidig med at de forstår Andersens eventyr som den anden verden og kultur den er – i forhold til deres egen verden. Det er en af pointerne i den kognitive film- og medieforskning, at vores oplevelser af film og tv-serier i en vis udstrækning baserer sig på universelle elementer, at der altså er noget vi har tilfælles som mennesker, uanset hvad vores baggrund er. Men samtidig vil alle møder med fortællinger og medier være præget af den nationale kontekst de er opstået i, og publikum vil forstå ud fra deres individuelle og kollektive historie.

I den danske del af MeCetes projektet undersøgte vi både via fokus-grupper og spørgeskemaer, hvordan danske forholdt sig til danske og europæiske tv-serier. Vi undersøgte også hvordan f.eks. danske og engelske aviser anmeldte og diskuterede danske og engelske tv-serier (krimier, samtidsdramaer og historiske serier). Hos danske seere var det f.eks. tydeligt at den engelske serie Downton Abbey fascinerede danske seere for det miljø og den kultur den skildrer, for tidsbilledet som sådan.

Men som historisk serie handlede fascinationen mindre om dens historiske konflikter. 1864 blev omvendt diskuteret heftigt for sin historiske beskrivelse og konflikter. Her kommer ‘proximity’ dimensionen ind: vi danskere kender dansk historie og kultur bedst, og det spiller ind i vores oplevelse. Men alligevel spiller oplevelsen af den engelske serie ind, både i den måde vi forholder os til engelsk kultur og historie på, og i forhold til de forskelle vi lægger mærke til mellem dem og os. Kulturmødet rummer en meta-dimension, hvor vi diskuterer vores egen kultur i forhold til andres.

Selvom det er en forenkling, kan man faktisk se forskellen mellem hvordan den britiske presse taler om den internationalt uhyre populære historiske serie Downton Abbey og den danske presse: i den engelske presse er det ikke så meget den nationale identitet, der er til debat, mens den danske i overvejende grad ligger her, altså hvad er det særligt engelske, og hvordan forholder det sig til vores danske kultur.

Man kan også demonstrere modsætningen ved at modstille citater fra den engelske og danske presses måde at tale om serien på. Det er tydeligt her, at den kulturelle tilgang i både Danmark og England tager form af en medialiseret dialog mellem egen og den anden kultur:

Hvorfor mediere kulturmøder har betydning

I disse Corona-tider er der ikke så mange danskere eller andre europæere der har kunne rejse – vi er blevet nødt til i højere grad at genopdage vores eget land. Til gengæld viser alle tal, at danskere som alle andre har øget deres mediebrug på alle mulige måder – herunder også tv-serier og film på de nationale tv-stationer eller de internationale streamingtjenester. Medialiserede kulturmøder kan ikke erstatte faktiske kulturmøder, men de to former for kulturmøde har lige stor betydning for udviklingen af en bredere og dybere forståelse af den europæiske og globale virkelighed.

Inden for kognitiv socialpsykologi taler man om otherness og outing som noget der både er helt normalt for os allesammen. Vi ser på andre udfra et perspektiv, der er skabt af erfaringer vi har med andre, både i de virkelige liv og via medierne. Vores nære relationer til dem vi kender bedst, fra familien og ud til en videre venne- og omgangskreds, er anderledes end de mere fjerne andre, som vi ikke møder så meget i det daglige eller ser så meget i medierne. Det kan man se i forsimplet form i modellen nedenfor. I yderste instans kan forholdet mellem os og de andre føre til meget negative holdning: dem vi ikke kender opleves ikke bare som andre, men som fjendtlige. Her er vi ovre i racisme, sort-hvis nationalisme osv. Kulturmøder, både dem i virkeligheden og i medierne er en vigtig faktor. Kendskab kan give venskab, som man siger.

Model: Mediated and real others

Medialiserede kulturmøder er af stigende betydning i en verden bundet sammen af globalisering og et stadig tættere medienetværk. Trods globaliseringen og det omfattende medienetværk, så lever vi allesammen stadigvæk primært i en lokal og national kultur. Den bestemmer i stor udstrækning, hvor vi føler os hjemme og hvordan vi ser på verden. Men selvom vi alle er forskellige på et individuelt og gruppemæssigt plan, så er vi på et dybere plan også meget ens som mennesker. Medialiserede kulturmøder kan være med til at vi ser hinandens forskellighed, men også at vi ser igennem forskelligheden og opdager ligheden og det menneskelige fællesskab.

Jo mere vi konkret ved om hinanden, om det liv vi lever, den historie vi udspringer, den kultur vi er en del af, jo mindre kan man håbe nationale, etniske og andre konflikter vil opstå. Kultur og kunst, hverdagslivets håb og forventninger er mindst lige så vigtige som økonomi og politik, hvis vi fortsat skal leve i fred med hinanden i Europa og verden i øvrigt. Det er derfor medialiserede kulturmøder og andre former for kulturmøder er så vigtige – det er det kunst og kultur handler om.

October 24, 2015

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Ib Bondebjerg

Ib Bondebjerg

Medier, historie og erindring: hvorfor fortiden er vigtig for nutiden.

Det er en gammel sandhed, at fortiden i meget høj grad er en levende del af og dermed også påvirker  nutiden. På det personlige plan bærer vi vores historiske baggrund med os. Den er kropsliggjort i vores måde at tænke, opleve og føle på, det er en del af vores kognitive og mentale apparat. Historien og fortiden kommer til os både gennem den levede og fortalte familie- og slægtshistorie og gennem et stigende antal  medialiserede former for fortællinger – den medialiserede erindring. Vores erindring, både den levede og direkte fortalte og den medialiserede har en individuel og en kollektiv dimension.

Selvom de to sider udgør forskellige spor, det ene som mere nær og sanset historie, og det andet som del af en større og mere omfattende samfunds-og kulturhistorie, så er de også tæt sammenvævet og forbundet. I vore dage er den individuelle historie og erindring ikke bare knyttet til den ikke-medialiserede familiehistoire, men også til et stigende antal digitale og sociale medier. Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, YouTube osv. har flyttet  fotoalbummet, dagbogen, brevkulturen, familievideoen og vores familiehistorie ud i et mere offentligt rum. Gør det privat offentligt, sagde min generation – det er i den grad sket.

Men det gælder også for den kollektive historie. Hvor det før var uddannelsessystemet, den historievidenskabelige formidling, der skabte vores kollektive, historiske bevidsthed, er også den del af historien blevet medialiseret i et utal af genrer, både fiktive og non-fiktive og på et utal af platforme. Med det antal historiske film og tv-serier, de mange dokumentariske historiske skildringer vi konsumerer i vores liv, er det formodentlig snarest her vores historiebevidsthed skabes. Set fra et dansk perspektiv behøver jeg bare minde om den næsten mytiske status tv-serien Matador har fået, en serie som siden sin første udsendelse fra 1978-1981 har gjort dansk kultur-, samfunds- og familiehistorie nærværende på en måde som mange års historieformidling simpelthen må give op overfor. Den er simpelthen blevet historien om det moderne Danmarks fødsel.

Det er ikke så mærkeligt at fiktive og andre narrative historiefortællinger griber os. Vi er skabt som ’narrative væsner’ siger kognitionsforskeren Jonathan Gottschall  i The Stirytelling Animal (2012). Vi forstå simpelthen virkeligheden meget bedre, når den får en narrativ form, hvor konflikter og karakterer kropsliggør historien. Narrative strukturer og evnen til at forstå og blive fascineret af historier er en gylden vej til fortiden og vores individuelle og kollektive historie. Narrativitet er ikke bare en del af fiktion og underholdning, det er en mental dimension i os som kognitive og emotionelle væsner. Det er en evolutionær dimension hos os som art, og den gør det muligt for os at fortolke og forstå os selv og andre i fortid og nutid. Gotschall bruger ligefrem udtrykket ’evolutionens Sherloch Holmes’ om vores narrative hjerne, en aktivitet hvorigennem vi søger at skabe orden i sanseindtrykkenes kaos.

Man bør altid henvise til de gamle græske filosoffer. Aristoteles har skrevet en del om erindring og dens betydning for os som individer, og dermed også for samfundet. For Aristoteles var det sådan, at kombinationen af sansning og erindring var selve grundlaget for kunst og eftertanke. Erindringen var det sted hvor den mere umiddelbare sansning blev til erfaring og erkendelse.

Fortiden er som sagt en meget levende del af nutiden, og den er af central betydning for vores oplevelse af identitet, af hvem vi er. Personer som mister deres erindring/hukommelse mister både sig selv og deres sociale kontekst. I sin meget interessante bog Mediated Memoirs in the Digital Age kommenterer José van Dijck den voldsomme vækst i medialiserede erindringsformer som dog ikke blot kan tilskrives at den digitale teknologi og de sociale medier. Det er en ganske vist væsentlig faktor, fordi vi selv konstant deltager i medialiseringen af vores egen historie. Men det afgørende er den universelle og indbyggede dimension i vores måde at opleve og erkende på, som allerede Aristoteles beskriver.

Vi arbejder konstant på at skabe sammenhæng i den virkelighed som findes udenfor os i vores fortid og vores nutid. Erindringen som proces knytter sig til den basale måde vi søger at skabe kontinuitet i vores eget subjekt vores egen identitet. Selvom vi alle sammen forandres og udvikler os, så har vi også en individuel oplevelse af at være en sammenhængende person med en historie og identitet over tid. Vi vågner jo ikke op hver morgen og spørger os selv hvem vi er: der er, for nu at citere min gode kollega Dan Zahavi en eller anden form for essentiel oplevelse af subjektivitet midt i alle forandringer og udviklinger, som gør at jeg oplever mig som jeg.

Som jeg skal vende tilbage til, så er hverken den individuelle erindring og historie eller den mere kollektive et neutralt felt, for nu at sige det mildt. Fortolkningen af fortiden og historien er en ideologisk kamparena, netop fordi fortiden som sagt ikke bare er fortid, men en meget levende del af nutiden. Der var en del som syntes at Matador  var historisk ukorrekt og overfladisk, selvom det var fiktion. Men det er ikke noget sammenlignet med den voldsomme debat om historisk sandhed og forskel i oplevelser og vurdering som Ole Bornedals 1864 skabte. En nationalt definerende begivenhed for 150 år siden, blev – kombineret med en meget nutidig ramme – til en blodig del af kampen om forståelsen af den nationale fortid og den nationale nutid.

På samme måde er jeg som efterkrigstidsbarn født i august 1947 en historisk del – både individuelt og kollektivt – af to andre årstal, som også spiller en betydelig rolle i nyere dansk og europæisk historie: 1960’ernes store forandringer af  kultur og samfund, herunder ungdomsoprøret i 1968; og måske ikke mindst murens fald i 1989, en begivenhed med dybe implikationer for både fortolkningen af fortiden og vores nutid. Men det vender vi tilbage til.

Min forskning og den historiske dimension

En eller anden har engang sagt, at jo ældre man bliver, jo mere begynder man at interessere sig for historie. Når man bliver rigtig gammel så er man efterhånden mest interesseret i sin egen historie – hvis man ellers kan huske noget! Måske er jeg så atypisk – eller født gammel. Interessen for film og medier i et historisk perspektiv har altid stået meget højt på min forskningsdagsorden. I løbet af de seneste 10 år, hvor jeg er blevet stærkt engageret i kognitive og emotionelle dimensioner af film og medier, er erindringens funktion i vores kollektive og individuelle bevidsthed blevet til en yderligere teoretisk og analytisk dimension i min interesse for historie og historier, altså fortællingens funktion i vores liv og bevidsthed.

For de af jer som måske kun kender mig som film og medieforskeren skal jeg minde om, at jeg startede i danskfaget og litteraturvidenskab, og at en af de største udfordringer i den periode knyttede sig til mammutprojektet Dansk Litteraturhistorie (bd. 1-9), der løb fra 1974-1984 . Et omfattende forsøg på en sociologisk litteraturhistorie med inddragelse af et meget bredere tekstbegreb. Det var så udmattende en opgave, at jeg straks efter begyndte a efteruddanne mig selv til at blive film- og medieforsker. Det var imidlertid et meget sejt arbejde, at tilføre danskstudiet et tredje ben dengang, ved siden af det sproglige og det litterære ben.

I perioden efter 1985 var mediefaget ved at udvikle sig flere steder på humaniora, mest på dansk og litteraturvidenskab, og som en lille ø for sig selv lå det daværende Filmvidenskab. En fusion lå lige til højrebenet, men det to lang tid, og der var mange modsætninger. I 1986 blev jeg Fullbright Scholar på UCLA, og mens jeg pligtforelæste i H. C. Andersen og Karen Blixen, og prøvede at lære amerikanske studerende at tale dansk, så gik jeg i gang med et større projekt i bl.a. UCLA’s arkiver om TV-fiktion. 7 år senere udkom Elektroniske fiktioner. TV som fortællende medie (1993) – et både historisk og nutidigt orienteret værk. Men inden da, i 1988, blev den gordiske knude løst op, hugget over og Institut for Film, TV og Kommunikation (som det først hed) senere Institut for Film og Medievidenskab blev skabt. Jeg var blevet fultids film- og medieforsker! Det er – vil jeg godt sige i dag – en af de bedste og mest historiske beslutninger jeg har taget i min karriere. Never a dull moment – som de siger!

Måske er der nogen der tænker på medieforskere som altid er oppe på beatet og kun interesserer sig for de meget aktuelle og stærkt samfundsrelevante emner. Til gengæld opfattes filmforskere – måske som optaget af gamle film og arkiver, lidt nørdet æstetiske måske endda. Det er i hvert fald aktive stereotyper, som de to tilsyneladende adskilte dele af mit fag stadig aktiv bruger i diskussioner – om end måske mindre end før. Det er en mental konstruktion i os og dem, som vi mennesker jo ynder.

Men er dikotomien rigtig relevant mere, og hvad er jeg egentlig selv? Den første medieartikel jeg skrev er fra 1986 og handler om Informationsteknologi, medier og dannelse. Året efter skrev jeg en artikel på baggrund af mine amerikanske tv-studier som hedder Det amerikanske øje. Om TV og den amerikanske kulturs sjæl. I 1988 offentliggjorde jeg artiklen Filmen og det narrative begær. Om Bertolucci’s film 1900. Indenfor et kort tidsrum altså artikler om tre typer medier i et relativt aktuelt perspektiv. Det har altid fascineret mig ved vores fag, at vi kan gå på tværs, at vi kan være tværfaglige, at man ikke kun behøver at specialisere sig meget snævert – selvom fokus naturligvis også er en god ting. Og som allerede påpeget må det historiske aldrig opfattes som en kun fortidig dimension.

Når jeg nu ser tilbage på min hidtidige produktion, så står der DEN HISTORISKE DIMENSION med meget store bogstaver. Samtidig har jeg altid været optaget af forholdet mellem historie og nutid. Jeg nævner blot i flæng fra mine nyere bøger, enten skrevet alene eller sammen med andre Dansk Mediehistorie 3, Dansk TV-historie, A European Television History, Filmen og det moderne. Filmgenrer og filmkultur i Danmark 1940-1972, Virkelighedens fortællinger. Den danske tv-dokumentarismes historie, Virkelighedsbilleder. Den moderne danske dokumentarfilm. For at det ikke skal være løgn, så hedder min kommende bog Screening the European Past. Television, History and Memory.

Hvem er jeg? Den individuelle erindring

Vi ved alle sammen af erfaring, at hukommelse og erindring har en meget individuel dimension, og at ingen af os kan bryste os af at have en eksakt og fotografisk hukommelse af det vi har oplevet i vores liv. Indenfor en familie kan man huske og genfortælle fortiden på forskellig måde, med større eller mindre uoverensstemmelser og variationer. Der er ting vi glemmer, eller som i hvert fald ligger godt gemt i erindringens dybere spor, mens andet kan stå meget markant, selv noget meget langt tilbage i tiden. Som den allerede omtalte kognitive psykolog og narrativitetsforsker Jonathan Gottscall har formuleret deti bogen The Storytelling Animal (2012): erindring består ikke i at vi bare ’kører en erindringsfilm. Tværtimod har vi lagret data spredt overalt i vores hjerne. Disse data sendes så til vores fortællende hjerne, som søger at skabe en sammenhængende historie ud af mangfoldige typer sansedata (…) fortiden som den repræsenteres i vores bevidsthed er en mental simulation – ikke ren fiktion, og ikke uden en solid erfaring i realistiske sansedata, men det er narrativisering, en fiktionalisering.’

Når det forholder sig sådan, neurologisk og biologisk, så skyldes det, som van Dijk påpeger i sin bog Mediated Memoirs, at hukommelse og erindring ikke er placeret i et bestemt center i hjernen. Erindring og hukommelse udløses af en meget kompleks proces som omfatter hele vores mentale og kropslige netværk, som beror på forskellige erindringssystemer, og som påvirkes af både kropslige reflekser, sanseinput, drifter, følelser. Erindring er altså altså ikke bare en state of mind men også en state of body, erindringen er kropsliggjort. Elementer som lyde, lugte, følelser kan udløse markante erindringsstrømme, og det gælder naturligvis også medialiserede billeder og fortællinger, som giver historien og fortiden krop så at sige.

Derfor blandes vores såkaldt individuelle erindringer ofte med andre systemer, sådan som det ses i den model memory forskeren Astrid Erll opererer med i bogen Memory in Culture (2011), når hun taler om de grundlæggende dimensioner af erindring:

  • den individuelle erindring – den historie om egen identitet og historie som vi bærer rundt og hele tiden udvikler

  • den kollektive, episodiske erindring – dvs. den erindring specifikke sociale grupper deler, f.eks. familie, slægt, skolekammerater etc.

  • Den kollektive semantiske erindring – som skabes via f.eks. medialiserede narrativer om fortiden som individer eller kollektiver ikke selv har erfaringer med

  • Den kollektive procedural erindring – som knytter sig til bestemte ritualiserede og institutionaliserede former for erindring og fortolkning af fortiden

Man kan også formulere den interaktion som foregår omkring erindring, omkring fortolkningen af og oplevelsen af historien og fortiden i en nutidig kontekst på mange måder, f.eks. sådan som van Dijck gør det i sin model over kontekstualiserede (embedded) og kropsliggjorte (embodied) erindringer (slide 10).  Pointen i denne model er, at medialiserede erindringer – ligesom alle andre erindringer – indgår i både rekonstruktioner af fortiden og projektioner ind i nutid og fremtid. Historien lever i form a erindring og hummelse et aktivt liv i os som individer, ligesom den gør det i den kollektive bevidsthed og offentlige debat.

Som den kognitive sociolog Evitar Zerubavel det i bogen Social Mindscapes ,  peger alt dette på at erindring netop både har en kognitiv, emotionel dimension, som er universel og derfor findes i alle mennesker og så en social dimension, som har at gør med at erindringen og fortolkningen af fortiden er en del af samfundets sociale mekanisme, en del af et medialiseret, institutionaliseret  univers som hele tiden er optaget af at bruge fortiden og historien som en del af sin fortolkning af nutiden.

Men lad os stige ned fra den teoretiske himmel og tilbage til mig og min erindring. Hvem er jeg, ja det er jo et stort spørgsmål som mange filosoffer har beskæftiget sig indgående med, altså ikke lille Ib i sig selv, men subjektiviteten. Jeg vover ikke at gå nærmere ind på det, men jeg er lidt fascineret af det som Dan Zahavi i sin seneste bog Self and Other, kalder ’the experiental self core’, dvs. selvet er netop ikke bare en social og kulturel konstruktion, selvom det også er det.

Jeg er født i Brønderslev, oven over biblioteket i 1947. Men selvom det må have været en voldsom oplevelse at blive født og en stærk udfordring at træde ind i virkeligheden, så har jeg ingen erindring jeg kan genkalde om det. Hvad jeg ved og føler om det er skabt eller genskabt af bl.a. familiealbummet eller de familiehistorier, som jeg har hørt senere. Den grundlæggende erindring jeg har om dette er altså medialiseret og dermed i hvert fald sekundært genskabt ved at blive narrativiseret. Der knytter sig detaljer til om fødslens tid og sted, hvem der kom og så mig, osv. Det faktum at jeg er født over biblioteket, har familiens fortællere også kunnet bruge – i lyset af min senere karriere. I senere fortællinger om min tidlige barndom – nu i Ålborg –  indgår også historien om de to gange jeg stak af på min trehjulede cykel, fordi jeg ville ned og se skibene i havnen, og blev kørt hjem af politiet. Det er nu en yndlingshistorie hos vores børnebørn.

At det forholder sig sådan, peger på at vores jeg ganske vist er der fra starten, men ikke bliver bevidst før senere, Det kan man forklare både neurologisk og sociologisk, og de to ting supplerer hinanden. Det fremgår bl.a. af neurologen Antonio Damasios bog Self comes to mind, som måske spiller sammen med nogle af Zahavis tanker. I hvert fald taler Damasio om at vores bevidsthed, og dermed vores jeg bygges op fra det han kalder protoselvet, som er de spontane følelser alle, selv babyer har, altså sanser, følelser, oplevelser, selvom de ikke er reflekteret; kerne-jeg’et hvor det vi oplever og møder i omverdenen bliver til sammenhængende narrative og følelsesmæssige mønstre; og det autobiografiske selv, hvor de samme oplevelser og begivenheder i vores liv bliver så mange og så omfattende at de danner sammenhængende og mere stabile mønstre og strukturer.

Det kan jeg applicere på dette triptykon af Ib i Bagsværd 1956, Birkerød 1966 og Nørrebro ca. 1974. Det er den samme person, men omkring alle tre billeder er der en anderledes tyk kontekst af følelser, oplevelser, livsfaser og historier. Min erindring er her blevet mere reflekteret og bevidst – den er blevet del af en fortælling, som er min, men som også har en masse tilfælles med efterkrigstidsgenerationen, med de store årgange som var med til at forandre velfærdssamfundet i 1960’erne. Billederne repræsenterer en fortælling om vandringen fra land/provins til storby, om øget velfærd, om uddannelse på et meget højere niveau til alle. Jeg var den første i familien der kom på universitetet, og den første nogensinde i slægten i et meget længere perspektiv, som er blevet professor.

Og jo, jeg var da også med i ungdomsoprøret, uden nogen særlig markant rolle dog, og ja, jeg var også Thylejren i 1970. Men i modsætning til så mange andre i min generation, som eksperimenterede vild og inderligt med kønsroller og andre familieformer blev jeg gift med min Ulla allerede i 1969, og vi fik vores to børn i 1971 og 1973.

På et alment plan passer det, trods forskellene i den konkrete udformning af historien, meget godt med at en stor del af vores stærkeste erindringer, følelser og oplevelser er knyttet til familien, hverdagslivet og kærligheden. Det er derfor historiske fortællinger der inddrager dette står så stærkt og påvirker os meget mere end faktuel historieformidling. Vi er narrative og emotionelle væsner.

Andre ting i vores mediekultur peger på denne familie- og hverdagsorienterede interesse for fortiden og historien– vi higer og søger efter vores egne rødder og historiske netværk. Da jeg var teenager kunne jeg ikke vente længe nok på at komme fri af familien og skabe mit eget liv, nu er jeg blevet amatør-slægtsforsker og har skabt mit Stamtræ via siden MyHeritage, hvor man kan en hel del mere end jeg endnu har nået at udføre.

På samme måde bygger Facebook-brugerne dagligt en historie om sig selv og deres netværk via den tidslinie og de billeder og opdateringer, de lægger ud. Tendensen ses også når f.eks. BBC i Who do you think you are?/DR: Hvem tror du du er  med moderne forskningsmetoder bringer kendte mennesker helt tilbage i det historiske dyb af deres slægtshistorie, eller når Channel 4 lader en moderne familie gennemleve hvordan det var at leve helt konkret i 1900-tallets begyndelse i The 1900 House. Men noget af det mest imponerende stykke filmkunst om historie og erindring er lavet af amerikaneren Ken Burns, som skildrer den amerikanske indsats under 2. Verdenskrig via fire typiske amerikanske byer, i The War. Her bliver den store histories nedslag i og betydning for den lille historie skarp og næsten til at føle og lugte. Perspektivet på den historiske virkelighed forandres markant.

Mig og 1968 – det individuelle og det kollektive

Det fremgår allerede af det jeg har sagt om min egen historie, at jeg ikke på det private, familiemæssige plan var en typisk 68’er. Men jeg var med, og det kom klart til at påvirke retningen i min forskning frem til 1988, hvor jeg skiftede til film- og medievidenskab. Min venstreorienterede holdning blev ikke skabt af og med 1968, den har jeg med mig fra min familie. Men hvor meget betød 1968, dvs. ungdoms- og studenteroprøret i det store historiske perspektiv? Min helt inden for forskningen i nyere Europæiske historie, Tony Judt har i sit storværk, Postwar – A History of Europe Since 1945 peget på, at selvom begge disse ting var vigtige på nogle områder, så var 1968 blot en lille krusning i en meget større og dybere revolution af de vesteuropæiske samfund i efterkrigstiden. I det citat som i kan se på min slide, hælder han koldt vand på os som måske lidt selvbestaltet så os selv dengang som vældig betydningsfulde. I den del af citatet som står med fedt, siger han direkte, at vi 68ere var lidt for selvhøjtidelige og selvoptagne i vores forestilling om vores egen revolutionerende og forandrende betydning.

’ Moments of great cultural significance are often appreciated only in retrospect. The sixties were different: the transcendent importance contemporaries attached to their own times – and their own selves – was one of the special features of the age. A significant part of the sixties was spent, in the words of The Who, ’talking about my generation.’  As we shall see, this was not a wholly unreasonable preoccupation; but it led, predictably, to some distortions of perspective. The 1960s were indeed a decade of of extraordinary consequence for modern Europe, but not everything that seemed important at the time has left its mark on history. The selfcongratulatory, iconoclastic impulse – in clothing of ideas – dated very fast; conversely, it would be some years before the truly revolutionary shift in politics and public affairs  that began in the late 1960 would take full effect. And the political geography Sixties can be misleading – the most important developments were not always in the best known places.’

Uden at underkende 68’erne siger han, at man skal søge meget dybere ned for at finde roden til de strukturelle, historiske forandringer som var med til gøre sådan noget som 1968 muligt. De faktorer Judt peger på er ikke overraskende: der foregår en omfattende omstilling i Europa fra 1950’erne og frem, et boom i økonomisk vækst og velfærd, der foregår en gigantisk mobilitet fra provins til by, og mellem lande og regioner i Europa, de meget store årgange vælter næsten skole og uddannelsesinstitutionerne omkuld, mønstre i forbrug og livsmønstre var i totalt opbrud og man ser en global vækst i mediekultur, der udvikles i Europa og USA og skyller indover før langt mere isolerede nationalstater. Af afgørende betydning er også kvindernes ligestilling og march ind på arbejdsmarkedet og i uddannelsessystemet. Globaliseringen betød også at andre dele af verden end de ’gamle amerikansk-europæiske’ samfund bevægede sig tydeligere ind i på scenen. Det var med andre ord ikke ungdomsoprøret, der var kimen til forandringerne. Ungdomsoprøret var en del af en lang række forandringer som gjorde at det i høj grad var universitetsungdommen og det man kaldte hippiekulturen, der for en tid blev symbolet på dybtliggende forandringer.

Jeg ønsker ikke at underkende det jeg selv var med i, og selve universitetsoprøret står for mig selv i dag som et nødvendigt opgør med et dengang stivnet system. Men enhver kan selv se i dag, at universitetet nu er et helt andet sted. Men min erindring rummer også tåkrummende episoder – også nogle jeg selv har bidraget til – som viser den hybris som Judt taler om, den ikonoklastiske selvfølelse. Men jeg var der og levede med det og for det, og som meget ung undervisningsassistent fra 1970, ph.d.studerende fra 1973 og adjunkt fra 1976 var jeg med til at udvide blikket på litteratur til at omfatte andre former for litteratur, og til at omfatte medier og populærkultur. Et sociologisk blik på kultur og medier afløste et kun æstetisk.

Jeg indrømmer at det ikke er hver dag jeg læser, eller slår op i min måske tidstypiske ph.d. afhandling Proletarisk offentlighed 1-2, eller i den ligeså tykke antologi Arbejderkultur, som hænger sammen med den. Men selvom jeg i dag ville udtrykke mig anderledes, så ser jeg stadig disse bøger og det jeg gjorde som en vigtig del af min egen historie. Det var samtidig noget der på et eller andet plan var en del af en større bevægelse og historie. Mine 1968-relaterede værker en del af den historiske dimension, som løber gennem en meget stor del af mine bøger og artikler, og måske ikke mindst komme frem i min omfattende forskning i dokumentarismen og samfundet. 1968 gjorde mig til ligeså meget samfundsforsker som litteratur-, film-, og medieforsker.

1968 blev iflg. En gallup fra 1968 ikke modtaget alt for vel i den brede del af befolkningen – de så det lidt som et forkælet middel- eller overklasse oprør blandt de mest priviligerede unger.

Denne Gallup-meningsmåling fra 1968 undersøgte danskernes holdning til studenteroprøret i Danmark. Det fremgår, at danskerne ganske klart syntes, at de studerende bar sig forkert ad. Ser man på respondenternes alder, så ser det dog ud til, at sympatien steg jo yngre dele af befolkningen man spurgte. Afslutningsvis konkluderede Gallup, at de studenternes ‘good will’ i befolkningen havde lidt skade pga. oprøret. Som baggrund for denne konklusion pegede Gallup på, at 77 % af befolkningen mente, at studenterne gennemgående blev behandlet godt af samfundet, og at 53 % mente, at studenterne var bedre stillet end andre unge under uddannelse.

Men 1968 og det det hænger sammen med har fået en blivende historisk, symbolsk betydning, som også film og medier har taget frem. Det kan man vise i masser af både fiktive og dokumentariske film, men en af de film som måske fanger tidsånden, tendenserne og modsætningerne bedst er efter min mening franskmanden Olivier Assayas’ film Something in the air (2012). Som i andre gode historiske film er det ikke i sig selv den dokumentariske sandhedsværdi, som er interessant, selvom den også er vigtig: det er filmens evne til netop at få alle erindringens dimensioner fra krop til hjerne, fra indre til ydre til at smelte sammen og ramme os.

Når fortiden går amok i nutiden – 1864 og de nationalromantiske myter

’Det at en Litteratur i vore Dage lever, viser sig i, at den sætter Problemer under Debat’ (Brandes). Dette berømte og ofte brugte citat er naturligvis fra Georg Brandes skelsættende forelæsninger Hovedstrømninger, som indledtes 3/9 1871 i et auditorium på Københavns Universitet. Brandes var en af årsagerne til at jeg i 1966 startede med at læse dansk og litteraturvidenskab på KU. Brandes var europæer og kosmopolit før han var dansk, han så udad og ikke indad, fremad og ikke bagud. Det er en identitet jeg kan identificere mig med, og som har præget meget af min forskning i europæisk kultur og globalisering siden 2000. Men han vidste naturligvis også at fortiden, historien og nationalfølelsen var en fænomenal, ideologisk og samfundsmæssig kraft. Hvad han forkyndte var et sociologisk syn på litteratur, som havde til formål at ruske op i den konservative og romantiske dominans på hans tid. Man kan vist roligt sige at selv her 144 år senere, er den kamp ikke blevet mindre vigtig, og den nationalkonservative tendens ikke mindre.

Jeg ved ikke om Ole Bornedal i arbejdet med 1864 har haft Brandes inde i det kreative rum, men det kunne han godt. Derimod ved vi, at serien er baseret på et af de mest roste, historiske værker om 1864, Tom Buk Swientys bøger  1864 – Slagtebænk Dybbøl og 1864 – Dommedag Als. Disse bøger rummer en fremragende, rystende, realistiske og ganske afromantiserende skildring af hele det forløb som førte til det danske nederlag, det danske traume om 1864. Et forløb som iflg. denne fremstilling bl.a. må ses som et romantisk amokløb i en ung dansk nationalstat, som skulle få tragiske konsekvenser. Det er sjovt nok samtidig bøger som alle fra  Pia Kjærsgaard og visse af danske historikere, som ellers ikke plejer at være enige om ret meget, kalder fremragende. Men da de samme bøger resulterede i en – efter min mening – lige så fremragende serie i bedste sendetid på DR, skal jeg love for at vandene blev delt. Men viser det ikke netop at Brandes har ret – kunsten lever først rigtigt, når den sætter problemer til debat. Og debat det skabte 1864 så sandelig, en så voldsom offentlig debat, så man tydeligt ser hvordan fortidige begivenheder, som næsten er stivnet i en national myte, i den grad er blevet og stadig bruges i den aktuelle politiske og kulturelle strid om dansk kultur og danske værdier.

Jeg rejste her i sommer rundt i Sønderjylland og de tyske dele af som før 1864 hørte til Danmark. Jeg rejste bevist i sporene på 1864, jeg prøvede så at sige at få historien ind under huden. For få steder som her, præger historien på næsten mytologisk vis landskabet og kulturen, og historien er til stede i små og større detaljer.. Om noget har Bornedals 1864 også genskabt dette landskab og den kultur, i de hverdagskulturelle dele af sin serie.

Seriens struktur og fortælling er med god baggrund i den virkelighed som skildres voldsomt, ekspressiv, følelsesladet og melodramatisk. Men den går også realistisk ind til benet af det politiske og nationale spil, kynismen bag nationalismen, dumdristigheden og den ideologiske forblændelse, og samtidig er serien ikke mindst den stærkeste afdækning af krigens gru og formålsløshed, jeg nogensinde har set på dansk tv. Men når serien, trods den voldsomme offentlige debat, der nærmest splittede danskerne i to lige store del, alligevel fasthold et seertal på omkring 1.3 millioner, kun meget lidt under andre samtidige danske dramaserier, så er det også fordi den – som det gælder for al god historisk dramatik – forbinder mange lag, især hverdagshistorien og den større politiske socialhistorie, og fordi historien bliver nærværende og konkret gennem personificeringen af faktiske, historiske karakterer og fiktive, typiske karakterer.

Men seriens overraskende og geniale greb er også at gøre forholdet mellem fortid og nutid endnu tættere ved på familieplanet at skabe en nutidig ramme, som fortiden spejles i, Det er ikke bare en serie som handler om 1864 som historisk begivenhed, det er en serie som handler om krigens og politikkens væsen fra nationalstatens fødsel og op til den globale virkelighed, som dansk politik nu agerer i. Her tager serien som Brandes det kosmopolitiske perspektiv. Via trådene mellem fortids- og nutidshistorien tager serien et ideologisk og kulturelt opgør med den politik, som siden 2001 har ført Danmark ud i udsigtsløse krige via tvivlsomme alliancer. Men den tager også et livtag med de som definerer danskheden så indadvendt og rendyrket, at de f.eks, hævder at sigøjnere ikke eksisterede i Danmark på det tidspunkt – hvor de nationalkonservative jo bare rettelig mener, at dem vil de ikke have, de hører ikke hjemme i deres højglanspolerede og renskurede danske kultur.

En mur og et sår i vores europæiske hjerter – Anders Østergaard og 1989.

Fra 1991-1997 sad jeg i Statens Humanistiske forskningsråd, de sidste tre år som formand, både for dette råd og for alle forskningsrådenes formandsskollegium. En del af mit arbejde i den sammenhæng var også sidde i European Science Foundations styregruppe og den europæiske formandsgruppe EUROHORCH. Jeg blev i slutningen af 80’erne en meget stærk tilhænger af et udvidet og fordybet EU samarbejde – efter min mening det eneste der kan frelse os for at de europæiske nationalstater falder tilbage til livsfarlig nationalisme. I 2008 var jeg initiativtager til oprettelsen af det tværfaglige Center For Moderne Europastudier (CEMES) her på stedet, fra 2008-2011 som formand. Mit europæiske engagement har også gjort mig til med-leder af to større europæiske forskningsprojekter: Changing Media – Changing Europe ( 2000-2004) og mit nuværende projekt Mediating Cultural encounters Through European Screens (MeCETES, 2013-2016). Så jeg har vel på en måde både Europa i hjertet og hjernen – det optager mig, fascinerer mig, irriterer mig, og det er centralt for min forskningsdagsorden, både i et historisk og nutidigt perspektiv.

Det samme gælder dokumentarismen, som har fyldt lige så meget i min forskning siden 2000, som Europa. Vi har en stribe utroligt stærke og meget forskellige dokumentarister i Danmark, som jeg har forsket i, undervist i, og som jeg har interviewet og ofte haft ude til min undervisning. Senest har jeg – sammen med Mette Hjort og Eva Novrup Redvall – udgivet interviewbogen The Danish Directors 3. Dialogues on the New Danish Documentary Cinema  – interviews med 19 aktuelle, danske dokumentarister. I denne sidste del af min forelæsning prøver jeg at forene min optagethed af det europæiske med min optagethed af dokumentarismen, historien og erindringen.

Anders Østergaard er en af vores mest fremragende, etablerede dokumentarister, og det særlige ved hans film er evnen til psykologisk at anskueliggøre en historisk og kulturel kontekst, ofte gennem portrætter af et individ eller en gruppe af individer. Han er samtidig en af de danske dokumentarister – en blandt mange – som er med til at udvide det dokumentariske sprog, så det bevæger sig langt udover det traditionelt journalistisk-dokumentariske. Han har selv om de fleste af sine film om kunstnere, f.eks. Troldkarlen om jazzmusikeren Jan Joahnsson, Tintin og mig  om Hergé og Gasolin – talt om en ’documentary of the mind’ – en sindets dokumentar. Hvad han gør i disse film er da også at kombinere en visuelt og æstetisk iscenesat indlevelse i et univers, en bevidsthed med en dokumentarisk dokumentation af den historiske og kulturelle kontekst. Musikuniverset i Troldkarlen bruges i en historie om Sverige og verden i 1950’erne og 60’erne. Tegneserieuniverset i Tintin og mig animeres og breder sig in i filmens portrætdel og dokumentariske billeder, men dette univers og denne bevidsthed giver også samtidig nøgler til en forståelse af  Belgisk og Europæisk historie. Og Gasolin’ – en af de mest sete dokumentarfilm i nyere tid – bliver med sin intense modstilling af især Kim Larsen og Franz Beckerlee som tidstypiske og meget forskellige karakter til et social- og kulturhistorisk portræt af Danmark fra 1950’erne og frem. Sanselig, narrativ og æstetisk iscenesat dokumentarisme som forener flere lag af fortid og nutid.

I sin seneste film 1989 laver Østergaard en historisk dokumentar om murens fald, på sin helt egen måde. Et skilt før filmen vises fortæller os: ’Denne film giver en dramatiseret fremstilling af begivenheder med kreativ brug af arkivbilleder. Alle de rekonstruerede dialoger er baseret på grundig research og verifikation, for at sikre den størst mulige autenticitet.’ Rekonstruktioner er ganske almindelige i journalistik og dokumentarisme, når man skal gengive situationer og begivenheder, hvor man af en eller anden grund ikke har materiale om den oprindelige begivenhed. Men her går Østergaard et skridt videre og gør noget som så vidt jeg ved ikke før er gjort i denne type dokumentarfilm.

Selv forklarer han det sådan: ’Vi skubber grænserne for formen ved at bruge arkivoptagelser af de rigtige personer og tilføje vores rekonstruerede dialog. Hensigten er ikke at provokere. Hensigten er, at man skal opleve disse mennesker på nært hold.’ (EKKO interview). Han sammenligner med f.eks. fiktionsfilmen Nixon, hvor Anthony Hopkins spiller hovedpersonen: ’Anthony Hopkins er fremragende i rollen. Men det er stadig ikke Nixon. Han kan aldrig blive Nixon. Han kan kun være Anthony Hopkins, der spiller en god rolle. Jeg var betaget af at bruge protagonisternes ægte fysiognomi. Der er meget at aflæse i et ansigt, uanset om det er Gorbatjovs blide gemyt eller Honeckers rå gadekæmpertype.’ (Ekko). Ved at lave disse rekonstruerede dialoger fra bag de lukkede døre bringer åbner han for en direkte selvoplevelse af nogle af de mest intense, historiske øjeblikke, der har formet nyere europæisk historie.

Men ved siden af dette greb gør Østergaard også det, at han personificerer og narrativiserer historien gennem to faktiske personer, der hver på sin måde er relativt ukendte helte: østtyskeren Kurt Schultz, der døde kort før murens fald i et forsøg på at krydse grænsen, og denne histories sammenhæng med den pludseligt udpegede ungarske premierminister, Miklos Nemeth, som var ham der først åbnede grænsen og dermed de facto satte lavinen i gang. På samme måde som 1864, men nu endnu mere direkte forankret i en historisk og dokumentarisk autenticitet, formår Anders Østergaard at gøre det som al god kunst kan: at gøre historien konkret og nærværende via en fortælling og via nogle karakterer som kropsliggør historiske tendenser. Samtidig bevæger filmen sig konstant mellem fortid og nutid, som en erindrende og fortolkende reflektionsproces, der tydeligt viser hvorfor fortid og nutid hænger sammen.

Kontinuitet og forandring: to historiske beslutninger som har præget mit liv

I 1959 udgav Eving Goffmann sin inflydelsesrige bog The presentation of selv in Everyday Life – en bog som siden har påvirket måden at tale om mediernes virkning i det offentlige og det private liv. Men man kan måske også sige det er tidtypisk at bogen kommer på det tidspunkt, for den introducerer så at sige det moderne, medialiserede samfunds begyndende underminering af traditionssamfundet, samfundet med mere faste roller, normer og forventninger. Goffman omtaler vores måde at præsentere os selv på i hverdagens private of offentlige rum som en slags teater og rollespil, der går fra den mest offentlige frontstage til den mest private backstage. I moderne sociologi har det siden været et stående tema, f.eks. i Anthony Giddens ligeså indflydelsesrige bog Modernity and Self-Identity, at vi siden 1960 har bevæget os ind i et samfund hvor identitet og jeg synes at være i konstant opbrud og forvandling: vi skal hele tiden udvikle og forny os, vi skal være omstillingsparate, vi må ikke blive hængende for længe og for meget i traditionelle roller og systemer.

Medierne er en del af dette, også de nye sociale medier: vi eksponerer os selv hele tiden, vi spejler os i hinanden, og offentlige personer og deres mange lag kommer lige ind i stuen til os. Det har nok altid været sådan, men i dag er hastigheden og omfanget øget, bl.a. i kraft af medialiseringen af vores liv. Det går så stærkt nu, at en psykolog som Svend Brinkman kan erobre mediedagsordenen med et budskab om at vi også skal huske at slå rødder.

Når jeg ser tilbage på mit hidtidige liv som universitetsforsker og som familiemenneske, så slår det mig, hvordan jeg på engang har været typisk og meget utypisk set i dette perspektiv. På næsten samme tid i 1969-70 foretog jeg to valg, som har haft afgørende betydning for mit liv og min historie. Den ene beslutning førte til det, som jeg i dag tager delvis afsked med. Endnu inden jeg var færdiguddannet blev jeg pr. 1/9 1970 ansat som undervisningsassistent på Københavns universitet. Det er nu lidt over 45 år siden, og det har givet mig et rigt og vidunderligt liv som underviser, vejleder, forsker – og guddøde mig også som administrator. Jeg har mødt og samarbejdet med en utrolig masse mennesker, fra mange forskellige fagområder og på tværs af flere institutioner. Jeg er glad og stolt over alt det jeg har fået lov til at være med til – og det er ikke helt slut, bare rolig, jeg er nu en fri forsker, og jeg håber der er mange publikationer i mig endnu. Men det slår mig hvor umoderne og traditionelt det er, at have været ansat på den samme arbejdsplads hele sit liv. Men til gengæld vil jeg så imod tidsånden om omstillingsparathed sige, at måske er det netop den stærke kontinuitet, som har gjort at jeg indenfor den ramme i virkeligheden hele tiden har fornyet mit og prøvet nye udfordringer og veje.

Men langt den vigtigste af disse to beslutninger var, at jeg mens vi studerede, i april 1969 giftede mig med Ulla – det er nu lidt over 46 år siden, og flammen er der stadig, skulle jeg hilse og sige. Altså en helt håbløs ’gammeldags’ form for kærlighed og ægteskab i en tid hvor tæt ved 50% af de ægteskaber der indgås, opløses igen. Altså det traditionelle og kontinuiteten igen. Men måske er konklusionen den samme, vi har udviklet os gennem tiden med hinanden. Og hvad har vi ikke fået for dette. En ting er publikationer, men vores fælles ’udgivelser’ – som faktisk rummer bogen Medier og samfund  (1990) –  er først og fremmest to fantastiske børn, og en fantastisk masse børnebørn. Jeg håber at mit virke som universitetsmand og mine bøger og artikler kan fortsætte med at inspirere nogen i årene frem efter. Men jeg er helt sikker på at jeg vil leve videre i mine børn og børnebørn.

Jeg takker, bukker og går langsomt ud – men ’The rest is Not silence’.

First published October 27, 2015. Palgrave Communications s, DOI: 10.1057/palcomms.2015.15

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Ib Bondebjerg

In a recent portrait of and interview with the young, very successful Danish theatre director, Elisa Kragerup, she was asked what triggered her when she decided on which plays to put on stage: ‘Working with theatre is for me a way to engage in what it is to be human. When my passion for something is awoken, it is because I feel it in my body, when it gives me a physical feeling (…). It is a vey physical thing to work with both the higher and the deeper aspects of being human (…)The body is a language, which can be used to tell transformation stories’ (Skotte 2015). It is not often to hear a person working with an art form like the theatre to talk so directly about the body and about emotions when defining creative work. Some theatre or film directors, or some authors might tend to talk about the more rational, abstract and intellectual dimensions of art and creativity. But most creative people know that the body, the emotions, what we feel about something is deeply imbedded in all forms of art and communication. Already the ancient Greek and Roman rhetorical traditions talk about logos, ethos and pathos as part of a successful communication.

Two Cultures revisited

In a way it should not be a controversial thing to point to biology and neurology as a fundamental dimension for research in the humanities and social sciences. It ought to be common sense to connect elements from biology, natural sciences, humanities and social sciences to get a deeper understanding of how our society and culture, our art forms and types of communication are linked to the concept of our embodied mind. However, the split and controversy, already pointed out by C.P. Snow in his original lecture and the book that followed, The Two Cultures (1956/59, republished 2012), between natural sciences and the humanities and social sciences still exist. In the humanities and social sciences there is a strong trend towards contructivist views, and biology and neurology often signal a kind of determinism to people from these fields of research. But it should not come as a surprise to researchers in the humanities and social sciences, that the human mind and body is a result of a very long and slow evolutionary history. After all Darwin was not born yesterday, and Darwinism is a firmly established paradigm for the understanding of how humans develop and the interaction between our biology and the natural and social context work. It is not a deterministic theory, but a theory that teach us to look carefully into both the very fundamental dimensions of how our body and mind functions, and the social, historical and cultural context we live in.

Already C. P. Snow was wondering why it was expected that people in the natural sciences should know the fundamentals of culture and society to be considered educated citizens, whereas humanities and social science people considered some of the most basic aspects of natural science irrelevant. What we see today in the new interdisciplinary embodied mind paradigm, is often that across the split, Snow pointed out, humanities, social sciences and natural sciences collaborate and enter each other’s territory. Researchers with a natural science background, like for instance the Danish neurologist and Oxford professor Morten Kringelbach or the American neurologist Antonio Damasio, enter art studies and philosophy in books like Mind Space. The Emotional Brain (Kringelbach, in Danish 2004) and Self Comes to Mind. Constructing the Conscious Brain (Damasio 2010). From the other side linguistics like American George Lakoff and philosopher Mark Johnson start developing an embodied theory of language and meaning in Metaphors We Life By (1980). Also in film and media studies, literary studies and studies of creativity the embodied mind paradigm is strong, for instance in Mark Turners The Literary Mind (1996), Ed Tan’s Emotion and the Structure of Narrative Film (1996) or the more popular book by Jonathan Gottschall, The Storytelling Animal. How Stories Make us Human (2012), which combines psychology, sociology, aesthetics and neurology.

Descartes error: the neurological turn

From 1994-1997 I was a member of European Science Foundations Standing Committee for The Humanities. ESF-Humanities has always been very dedicated to the development of interdisciplinary research, not just with the social sciences, but also the various branches of natural sciences. ESF was located in Strasbourg, and in 1995 a strike made the trip back to Copenhagen very long. But I had brought with me Antonio Damasio’s book Descartes’ Error. Emotion, Reason and the Human Brain (1994), simply because I found the title so intriguing, and I had plenty of time to read what for me became a bit of a revelation and led to my own personal neurological turn. What the book does is to use very strong neurological research to raise and give answers to questions that have profound importance for the understanding of humans, culture and society. The fascinating thing about the book is that Damasio can move between biology, neurology, philosophy and psychology. His introduction is also a personal story of things that changed Damasio’s own understanding of things and the fundamentals in the way we generally look upon and evaluate for instance the relation between rationality and emotions:

I had grown up accustomed to thinking that the mechanisms of reason existed in a separate province of the mind, where emotion should not be allowed to intrude, and when I thought of the brain behind that mind, I envisioned separate neural systems for reason and emotion. This was the widely held view of the relation between reason and emotion, in mental and neural terms (Damasio 1994: xii).

What the book argues for, through different case studies of persons with specific forms of brain damage and more general neurological arguments, is that this widely held concept is completely wrong. Feelings, memory and perceptual images play an important role for our reasoning, and because the body and the mind are so connected, feelings and reasoning interact, and feelings play an important role for our minds and for our ability to act in society. As Damasio points out, feelings and emotions are not a luxury, they are in fact as ‘cognitive as other percepts’ (p. xv), and they guide our decision making and reasoning in important ways. So Descartes’ error was that his sentence ‘Cogito ergo sum/I think therefore I am’ created an ‘abyssal separation of body and mind (…) the separation of the most refined operations of the mind from the structure and operation of a biological organism’ (Damasio 1994: 249-250).

This general argument for an embodied mind, for the biological basis of both reason and emotion has been taken further and discussed in many books both with a philosophical agenda and with a more creative and communicative agenda. In one of his later books, Self Comes to Mind. Construction the Conscious Brain (2012), Damasio himself develops a theory of the self based on the embodied mind framework. The self, who we are and what we feel and think as a me, is – according to Damasio (Damasio 2012: 22-23)  – a very complicated process where the self is constituted by three different kinds of self: the ‘protoself’ with the primordial feelings, mainly in the cerebral cortex and brain stem, the ‘core self ‘ or what he calls a ‘material me’ where interactions between the organism and objects take place, and ‘the autobiographical self’ which is our aggregated knowledge and memory of both the past and projections of the future. Finally we have what Damasio calls ‘a knower’, where the core and autobiographical self give our minds a ‘subjectivity’.

Damasio is not a philosopher, but his theories and biological empirical evidence has been taken up and critically discussed by some of our most interesting new philosophers, for instance in Dan Zahavi’s new book Self and Other (2014). Zahavi’s book represents an important interdisciplinary attempt to connect classical phenomenology and philosophy with the new trends in the philosophy of the mind. Such and attempt to expand the embodied mind theory into philosophy and challenge the whole Western tradition for understanding rational and cognitive processes is also strongly represented in George Lakoff and Mark Johnson’s Philosophy in the Flesh. The Embodied Mind and Its Challenge to Western Thought (1999). What the book says is basically: the mind is inherently embodied, thought is mostly unconscious and abstract concepts are largely metaphorical. What the book also argues for, based on cognitive science, is that commonalities and universality, when we talk of human societies and culture, is much more dominant and important than differences. This again doesn’t mean that culture and society are not important, it just means that the social and cultural diversity, or the historical and national differences, we can observe, are built onto our embodied minds, which ensure a strong commonality beneath our variations.

The social mind: new cognitive sociology

Generally speaking the new embodied mind paradigm is not an erosion of the things humanities and social sciences have been researching for years: how cultures communicate and interact, how the creative and artistic dimension of our life, how societies and politics are formed etc. Rather this new cognitive-emotional theory offers a new foundation of cultural and social studies of societies and historical development. Damasio – who is in fact very conscious about the kind of controversy his theory and biological framework can create outside natural sciences – has said this very explicitly:

Naturalizing the conscious mind and planting it firmly in the brain does not diminish the role of culture in the construction of human beings, does not reduce human dignity, and does not mark the end of mystery and puzzlement. Cultures arise and evolve from collective efforts of human brains over many generations, and some cultures even die in the process. They require brains that have already been shaped by prior cultural effects. The significance of cultures to the making of the modern human mind is not in question. Nor is the dignity of that human mind diminished by connecting it to the astonishing complexity and beauty to be found inside living cells and tissues (Damasio 2012: 27).

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This strong statement from Damasio is reflected in different forms of cognitive sociology, an already firmly established sub-discipline for instance represented in a text-book like for instance Fiske & Taylor’s Social Cognition (1991 and many later editions). Here social cognitive processes are described through for instance schema theory, the social categories we use in social interaction, in connection with self-understanding and memory, attribution theory, and affects and cognition and their role in the building of attitudes for instance. Although social cognition like this is not directly linked to the new dimensions of the embodied mind framework, and the link to biology and neurology is thinner, there is definitely a shared common ground that can be developed further. This is also the case with other approaches to cognitive sociology, for instance Eviatar Zerubavel’s Social Mindscapes. An Invitation to Cognitive Sociology (1999).

Zerubavel’s book offers what he calls a general outline of a ‘sociology of the mind’, and in the opening chapter he argues that the need for a cognitive sociology really stems from a still very dominant trend in cognitive science to study individual brains and forms of cognition, ‘cognitive individualism’ (Zerubavel 1990: 2). Like Damasio (but without direct reference) he sees the rise of modern cognitive science as coinciding with the decline of the ‘Romantic vision of the individual thinker’ (ibid). In a model of dimensions cognitive sociology (Zerubavel 1999: 20), Zerubavel talks about three fundamental dimensions of cognitive sociology: cognitive individualism, cognitive sociology and cognitive universalism. These dimensions in the one end point to very subjective, personal dimensions of our social cognition and at the other end universal cognitive commonalities that are related to the deep biological dimensions of social cognition, we share as human being, despite our differences. At the centre we then find the more collective, historical, subcultural dimensions of social cognitions, the things that are formed by our being members of ‘thought communities’.

So despite his attack on the romantic notion of the individual and his strong argument for cognitive theories that play down our cognitive individualism and differences and support the cognitive universalism or our cognitive commonality as human beings, Zerubavel focus on the interplay between cognitive universalism and a cognitive sociology focusing on cognitive diversity and differences (Zerubavel 1999: 10-11). So in an almost paradoxical way Zerubavel actually argues that being aware of what is universal and common for all human beings makes it much clearer how we can approach collective processes of cognitive socialization and formation of social though communities, sub-cultures and structures of collective memory or shared cultural experiences. The universality of our embodied mind and foundation for our experiences is not in opposition to the analysis of the cognitive diversity and pluralism we find in modern cultures.

When cognitive sociology and linquistics is used in actual research of contemporary matters, such as it is the case with George Lakoff’s The Political Mind (2008), the reaction can however be quite strong. In his review in New York Times, William Saletan (2008) simply called the book ‘Neuro-Liberalism’, and what happens in this review is basically that Saletan reacts against the biological dimensions as if they from a deterministic framework for Lakoff’s comparative analysis of Republican and Democrat political discourses:

In place of neoliberalism, he offers neuroliberalism. Since voters’ opinions are neither logical nor self-made, they should be altered, not obeyed. Politicians should “not follow polls but use them to see how they can change public opinion to their moral worldview.” And since persuasion is mechanical, progressives should rely less on facts and more on images and drama, “casting progressives as heroes, and by implication, conservatives as villains.” The key is to “say things not once, but over and over. Brains change when ideas are repeatedly activated (Saletan, NYT, 2008)

But what Lakoff is trying to analyse are different political discourses and how they relate to the way our brain basically works through links between emotion and reason, through metaphor, narrative and dramatic oppositions. He is in a way just continuing the work done by rhetorical research for centuries on which speeches have had an impact and which not, and why that is. Abstract facts and arguments are not enough in themselves, something that is not deterministic, but based on solid neurological research, and which is not in opposition to demands for truth, facts and reason.

Moving Images, Culture and the Mind

The study of moving images, of film, television and recently also internet and social media have gone through some of the same theoretical main trends as other areas of humanities and social sciences: strong aesthetic, cultural paradigms have existed alongside more sociological approaches. But around 1985 cognitive theory developed rapidly in film and media studies. David Bordwell’s book Narration in the Fiction Film (1985) became an influential starting point for theories of genres and narrative structures in film and other media that combined both formalist, structural analysis and cognitive and psychological ways of describing film comprehension. By defining and describing very fundamental and universal forms of film narration (for instance classical narration and art cinema narration) he went against a tendency to see genres primarily as historically and culturally constructed. The viewer here emerged not primarily as a socially and culturally constructed viewer, but as a viewer constituted by the fundamental dimensions of cognitive and emotional involvement in film and narrative structures.

This attempt to establish very fundamental, universal genres and modes of reception in film is  further developed in Torben Kragh Grodal’s two books Moving Pictures. A new Theory of Film, Genres, Feelings and Cognition (1997) and Embodied Visions. Evolution. Emotion, Culture and Film (2009). Grodal defines a new typology of basic genres based on the viewer’s active–passive relation with the film, the kind of distanciation or identification involved, and the typical moods and emotional responses activated during viewing: associative lyricism, canonical narratives of action, obsessional paratelic fictions, melodramas, horror, schizoid fictions, comedy, and metafiction. Behind these basic forms we then find a number of more concrete, historical subgenres. The basic assumption of the book is that genres of visual fiction are mental structures that to a large degree are modeled on the basis of a simulated reality of actions and emotions to which we react with much the same experiences and capacities as in real-life experiences. The book thus argues that many of the fundamental structures of film experience are based on embodied emotional and cognitive patterns that interact with the concrete social and historical context of audiences.

In his first book, Grodal describes both the typical embodied flow, during the experience of visual fiction with reference to cognitive-emotional psychology, and the reason for the strength and popularity of the prototypical genres of visual fiction and their relation to different mental and emotional activities and experiences. Grodal’s book is not strongly oriented toward the cultural and historical aspects of moving images. However there is no essential opposition between a cultural, historical, and stylistic approach to visual fictions and Grodal’s position, as long as one realises that certain aspects of the experience and processing of moving images cannot be described as culturally constructed in any short-term sense. In the introduction to his second book Grodal makes the same statements about why the embodied mind theory represents a major shift in humanities and social sciences as those researchers already cited. He refers to Damasio’s statement that film is actually a good illustration of how consciousness functions, because the filmic experience in many ways simulate the real world experience, and because the film experience illustrate that levels of a bodily and biopsychological nature far below language and consciousness are activated (Grodal 2009: 13).

So when traditional film scholars – or language and literature scholars – only see a culturally and historically constructed language, they miss the dialectic between mind, body and society. Both social theory and constructivism tend to see the mind as a blank slate from birth on which culture and society makes their imprints (see Barkow et. al. 1992). But as the embodied mind theory has shown through both experimental, clinical research and empirical sociological research this is out of touch with the fundamental dynamic between biology, sociology and culture. Humans come with a very strong biological framework that is universal by nature and interacts with society and culture in much more complex ways. In film research this problem has been studied theoretically and experimentally by Ed Tan in Emotion and the Structure of Narrative Film (1996) – the subtitle ‘Film as an Emotion Machine,’ indicates what it is about. He is not trying to deal with all aspects of film experience and cultural and social aspects of cinema, he is trying to focus on how viewers emotionally involve with classical narrative films and how those emotions are created between screen and viewers both bodily and mentally.

This is also very much the agenda for Carl Plantigas’s Moving Viewers. American Film and the Spectator’s Experience (2009). He criticises the main trend in cultural studies and aesthetic theories of cinema and media and the way in which they primarily look for hidden meanings and tend to look for abstract propositions, messages and themes. He furthermore criticise the dominant forms of empirical audience research for not dealing with emotions. He sees the cultural studies paradigm as a result deep down of the same dichotomy between biology and culture, between reason and emotion that for decades have haunted Western thought and lead to a misunderstanding of emotions as counterproductive for logical and critical thought (Plantinga 2009: 4).

Towards a new inter-displinary agenda: biology, culture and society

We are biological creatures just as much as we are cultural and social creatures. We are born with a brain and a body before we are even defined as individuals and citizens in a specific society, we are universal in the making, before we get a specific language and are formed by the circumstances and times we live in. Modern theory of cognition and emotion point to the fact that we have much the same emotions although different societies and social circumstances can teach us how to control or show them. We have always from the dawn of man developed language, told stories, drawn pictures in ways that have strong universal elements, but also show abilities to great diversity and historical variation. But there seems to be strong universal patterns beneath the way these creative and communicative formats are developed.

Unlike what traditional cultural studies and sociology tend to infer, biology and evolution show that we are not born like a blank slate, and constructed from scratch as cultural and social beings. Our body, biology, brain and neural system play a very crucial role for how we are formed, and although there is not ultimate determination in biology, culture and society certainly interacts in very specific ways. We are not just individuals created by our own history and development, we are not just social and group determined individuals, we are in fact also individuals with a strong evolutionary ballast of biological nature and with universal dimensions. Emotions are not just a by-product of evolution, only there to be controlled or suppressed, fiction and narratives are not just entertainment to be avoided by rational thought, they are actually very basic and universal structures through which we understand and make sense of the world. Reason, logic, facts etc. are just as necessary, but they exist as part of the same biological make up of all human beings, and they are historically just as important for our cultural and social life.

Interdisciplinary collaboration and dialogues across disciplines are more than ever important for the understanding of humans in culture and society, and biology is an integrated dimension in that understanding. Biology and neurology have made major advances in knowledge of the human body and brain over the last five decades. Technologies to study the living brain are beginning to appear, and this development makes it possible in the future to study art and communication from new angles with the emotional and thinking parts of our experience in focus. Research in film and media studies, but also in social media and networking, in game studies, memory studies and in the creative arts have strong potentials in such and interdisciplinary project.

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