Today, I’ll be dealing
with a field that I’m not terribly familiar with. So, before I go and offend a
neurologist or a psychologist, let me apologize in advance for any improper
science. Also, my subject happens to wonderfully tie-in with Leena’s previous
post, and that couldn’t make me happier – I wish I could say we planned it.
In my trek across the inter-webs, I recently arrived at an amazing YouTube
channel. TedTalks explains complex scientific concepts and theories to the
average, 32-second-attention-span layman – the video’s are longer than 32
seconds, and they are well worth learning from (check
it out here). In one thought-provoking video, Denis Dutton reads a
paper, presenting his “Darwinian theory of beauty.” Basically, the video
answers the question: What in our minds makes us think that something is
beautiful?
Alongside illustrator
Andrew Park’s charming visuals, Dutton’s interesting theory on beauty – the
idea that all the things that we consider beautiful can be traced back to
something that is evolutionarily beneficial to us – is what inspired my
scrambling across yet more of the web in search of additional information on
the theory of beauty as a product of our psychology. My editor's mind was
determined to find an answer to this question: what is it about a
skillfully written piece of literature that moves us?
Of
course, Dutton already answers this question for me quite straightforwardly; simply
put, the ‘beauty’ of a Jane Austen novel – to use his example – lies in the
reader’s subconscious appreciation of the skills that it took to carefully
craft the work. Evolutionarily speaking, it seems that close attention to
detail is a trait favored by natural selection (as he points out with the handmade
blades), and our subconscious minds – driven by a primal force to survive –
find skilled human performance attractive because they ensure a better chance of
survival for the individual with the trait. Subconsciously, we either wish to possess
the same skill as Jane Austen, or we wish to have her as a part of our ‘tribe’
(canon?) so that we can benefit from her trait. In this case, ‘beauty’ is seen
in the things and skills that will raise our chances of survival and
reproduction.
Although,
I find it hard to equate the beauty of a novel to the beauty of an idyllic
landscape with rolling hills, a source of water, and low-branching trees (which
we would consider beautiful because of our human instinct to dwell there). I
find that I experience a much different emotion when I read Thoreau’s Walden than when I look at a country
view; there is something ‘beautifully’ human about a novel. Why is it that when
I read about bean-rows and simple living, I feel a sense of existential
satisfaction?
One
answer might be that our brain is rewarding us for following the right path. Research
shows that certain emotions act as a feedback system (not necessarily a
causation system), affecting behavior based on the conscious observation of hindsight
after unconscious emotional responses. “Running Head: How Emotion ShapesBehavior” points out this phenomenon, saying, “why did the human
self-regulatory capacity evolve so as to be able to exert direct control over
actions and thoughts, but not emotions? The answer, we think is that you cannot
control your emotions because the purpose of emotions is to control you.”
The
paper points out that, just as fear causes humans to flee, and anger causes
humans to fight, guilt causes man to look back at his actions and change his
behavior based on his emotional response. In this case, due to an emotion, man
can sometimes actively change his behavior towards what the brain considers to
be better behavior. So then, in a way the brain is our master, and emotions are
its commands; as our teacher, the brain either corrects inappropriate behavior
or applauds beneficial behavior.
With
this in mind, I’d like to pose one last question: could beauty in literature be
a command from our master, the brain, telling us that we are on the correct path
so that we may continue on the same course? I look forward to your responses.
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