Part I: Comparative Orientations

Toward a Science of Comparative Education
On Teaching a 'Scientific' Comparative Education
Defining Comparative Education: Conceptions
A Comparative Study of Outlier Schools in Metropolitan Settings
Other Schools and Ours
Fast-Fish and Loose-Fish in Comparative Education
Use and Abuse of Comparative Education
State of the Field
Dependency Theory in Comparative Education
The Darling Young
The Comparative Mind: Metaphor in Comparative Education

Source: Max A. Eckstein, "The Comparative Mind:
Metaphor in Comparative Education," Comparative
Education Review 27 (1983): 311-323.  Reprinted
by permission of the University of Chicago Press.

THE COMPARATIVE MIND

The thesis of this paper is based on three arguments: first, that comparative educators make extensive use of metaphors in their thinking and writing, and that while this has great strengths it also contains some real problems in the process of advancing knowledge; second, that comparing is inherent in human thinking as a developmental process; and third, that comparing through the use of metaphors is a fundamental and characteristic way by which researchers in all areas of knowledge seek to extend our understanding of the world around us, The metaphors we use presuppose or imply theories; the theories (or models) which purport to explain or account for phenomena contain specific metaphors, whether implicit or explicit. One of the more important themes of the paper is that the unexamined metaphor, like the unexamined life, may have limited value.

Metaphors in Comparative Education

There are three major ways in which we all approach the substance of our field: as teachers, as students and researchers, and as users of the knowledge accumulated to make, implement, and evaluate policy.¹ Most of what follows relates to the second approach, study and research, though it has implications of course for the other two. Furthermore, we should acknowledge that the ideology, values, and techniques of comparative education are not unique to our field but are common to philosophy and the social sciences. They are as helpful and as problematic for us as for our colleagues in other scholarly fields. Like them, we seek to establish transnational laws about social phenomena, specifically, generalizations about education that are valid for different societies. Like them, too, we ponder whether this is at all possible, either because each society or culture is unique or because social science is an inappropriate or inadequate means to establish generalizations comparable to those of the physical or natural sciences. And like them, we often do ourselves a disservice, either by attending too closely to one nation or type of nation or by not being critical, self-conscious, and creative enough about the images, metaphors, and paradigms that we employ in our comparisons. On the one hand, we may be too parochial or one-sided, and on the other, too many-sided in the attempt to make sense of the great unknowns that we study.

The first task, then, is to examine some of the basic metaphors current in the field, for it is through them that we communicate with one another.² Since metaphors are at the very least implicit comparisons, it is only to be expected that they will abound in our literature.

A quick dip into recent issues of the Comparative Education Review will net a rich catch of metaphors: Brown's reference to "Hard Core" ideology in Chinese educational policy, and Harrison and Glaubman's examination of "Open Education" (October 1982); Psacharopoulos's metaphor for higher education as "the top step of the learning ladder" and his use of the phrase "prescription for economic development" (June 1982); Masemann's use, in her review of various sociological and anthropological approaches to educational research, of familiar terms in reference to functionalist views, for example,"structures,""Iife process", etc. (she is to be complimented for being self-conscious and analytical about metaphors) (February 1982); Thomas La Belle's mention of "the national character" of nonformal education, Merritt and Leonardi's use of the terms "immobility and accommodation" when discussing responses to various secondary school reform efforts in Italy, Clignet's reference to the "Natural History of Educational Interactions," and Sica and Prechel's dwelling on "dependency" as a metaphor for educational relationships (October 1981); Eisemon's use of the idea of "center and periphery" in writing about science in universities, and Young's evocative and colorfully phrased description of the African university as "at once child of decolonization and intended parent of national development" (June 1981). This assortment of metaphors is random. At some other time we might join in the intriguing game of collecting them and pinning them down, like butterflies, in some order. But what follow are a few generic examples of metaphor, chosen to illustrate how they are used and the kinds of ideas they comprise.

The first example is quite simple and obvious but a pervasive and important use of metaphors to identify nations and cultures. Perhaps the best-known examples may be taken from Edmund King's Other Schools and Ours,³ in which certain chapter titles serve primarily as powerful instructional devices: ⁴ "France -- the Central Light of Reason," "The U.S.A. -- a Nation on Wheels."

When proceeding from the individual case to the variety of cases under study, that is, the many nations of the world, we tend to group them into categories. We refer, for example, to developed and underdeveloped nations, selective and nonselective secondary school systems, centralized and decentralized administrations. Some nations are loosely called Third World countries in contrast to those of the First and Second Worlds, often without adequate identification of their common features. Such groupings of what, on the face of it, appear to be similar items are often no more than a preliminary sorting of the cards. We may not yet have seriously considered, let alone answered, the question, Similar with respect to what? We have not yet, in many instances, identified our rules of correspondence, and when we begin a closer examination we often find that the exceptions to the rule are more numerous than the items that conform. As we ponder the anomalies, the exceptions to the rule, and the possibilities of a new paradigm, the similarity of relations among the items is likely to change. Yet we stubbornly persist in retaining familiar categories, even when they force very dissimilar items into the same set and do not serve to explain what we seek to understand. And the reason for this persistence is quite simple: we are bound by the metaphors we create.

Both kinds of examples cited so far use metaphors to describe. They do not necessarily explain anything, even though they purport to do so. But the following examples do explicitly intend to explain: they propose connections and interactions, they suggest causes, and they even intimate the future.

The founding fathers of our field, working from a progress-oriented model, referred to the "warp and woof " of the social fabric into which schooling was woven; they noted the "forces" of society that shaped educational ideas and practices and the intellectual "currents" that moved not only school events but also the various configurations of political realities. Their paradigm included a number of significant assumptions: not only the sense that our subjects of study, nations or school systems, can be sorted into certain groups (e.g., developed and less developed, industrialized and unindustrialized), but that movement from one to the other is likely if not inevitable and represents some form of progress (by definition, in the conventional English usage, a Good Thing). In this same spirit of progress we have accepted the familiar analogy, influential in history and anthropology in particular, between changes in human societies and the development of the human individual: some societies are like human infants -- simple and primitive; others are mature, complex, and sophisticated -- like human adults. The metaphor of the growing human contains certain expectations and values, draws our attention to some, similarities and differences rather than others, focuses on some research questions rather than others. The implicit value judgments are obvious.

A second general model, the so-called radical paradigm, as Kazamias and Messialas term it, ⁵ has enjoyed increasing attention over the past decade or so, though it, like the notion of progress, is rooted in nineteenth century political thought. It has at its center the ideas of power and conflict and generates a number of evocative metaphors: reproduction, dependency, imperialism. Education thus becomes a means of exerting power, and elites use schooling as a mechanism for maintaining their hegemony over those with little or none. Unlike the first model, which is progress oriented and ecological and which conceives of education as the trigger or the yeast for general social growth and improvement, the second sees education as the tool or the conduit through which elite groups maintain their advantage over lesser groups.

To say that school developments are milestones on the road that leads inevitably to national improvement or are triggers for social progress does help to give us a perspective on a confusing and complex set of information. Such statements may even be true, but they are certainly inadequately founded either in theory or in fact and at best represent only possible parts of the picture. To say that the schools are instruments to maintain political power supplies a different and similarly limited perspective on complex events and phenomena. This view of the schools is familiar and simple, though not for that reason necessarily simpleminded, and also usefully illuminates otherwise hidden or disregarded aspects of our subject. To cite yet another metaphor, it is all well and good to liken the education system to a factory, whether in Lloyd Warner's sense of a social sorting machine ⁶ or in the more complex sense of a processor of human potential for the labor market (i.e., the production-function model), but this model, like the others, takes us only so far. Most of the metaphors we use to understand and to communicate with one another shed some new light on the subject. At the same time, they all leave too many questions unanswered and more unasked.

Ernest Nagel's comments on explanation in the social sciences appear especially appropriate here. He observes that a number of very different concepts (or variables) that cut across cultural differences have been used as the bases for transnational generalizations. But, he continues:

"The social laws that have been perhaps most frequently proposed in terms of such concepts state orders of supposedly inevitable social changes, and maintain that societies or institutions succeeded one another in some fixed sequence of developmental stages. None of these attempts or proposals has been successful. . . ." ⁷

He goes on to suggest that what may be needed are more abstract conceptualizations, that is, metaphors more removed from the familiar notions used in the daily business of social life.

At the very least, our metaphors in comparative education help us to describe, and there is of course a limit to the extent that they explain. A powerful metaphor, however, both describes and explains and then goes even further: ⁸ it articulates new ideas, invites further exploration of similarities and differences, and generates new analogies which include features not yet fully understood and previously undiscovered. Our metaphors in comparative education are really quite simple, drawn from nature and from everyday life. They serve the purpose of bridging some of the known and the unknown. They cast the unknown into a shape that helps us grasp some of its elements. But so often they are used without consideration of what they really say or imply or of how far they can take us in exploring the territory. They must therefore be scrutinized critically lest they limit our thinking. And they must be challenged by new conceptualizations that have the potential of answering more questions and provoking yet new ones.

Comparison and the Development of Human Thought Processes

Needless to say, comparative education is not the only place where comparison goes on. Figurative thinking and comparing are, I believe, inherent in human thinking and in fact mark a fundamental step in the cognitive development of the young. This is indicated in developmental theory in general and particularly well illustrated in Piaget's formulation of stages of development. The general idea is that there is a set sequence, that under normal circumstances each stage follows the preceding one, and that each stage is a precondition for the next.

In describing intellectual development, Piaget identifies five characteristic stages: (1) sensorimotor thinking (the earliest, pre-speech); (2) emergence and development of symbolic thought (approximately 11/2-5 years); (3) articulated or intuitional representation (approximately 4-8 years); (4) concrete operations (9-12 years); and (5) formal operations. A word or two about stages 2 and 3 (i.e., those stages that coincide with the development of speech and are therefore the foundation of adult conceptualization) will suffice to make the initial point.

Stage 2 is associated with a dramatic increase in language use and indicates a fundamental development in mode of thinking that shapes an individual's life-long intellectual activity. Language begins to be used as a representation of action instead of being merely an accompaniment to it, as in the earlier infant stage. No longer just a part of the action, language evokes action. ⁹ This development marks a large spurt forward toward using language as a conceptual symbol system.

To narrow our focus momentarily, two key concepts that Piaget uses to describe thought processes at this stage recall theory and practice in comparative education as illuminated by Bereday some years ago: "juxtaposition" and "syncretism." ¹⁰ In Piaget, these terms refer to alternative modes of thinking by which children think, explain, and communicate at this crucial phase of intellectual development. To juxtapose simply means putting items together without relating them to one another, although some explanation (some nascent idea of cause and effect) is at least suggested or implied in the ways in which the parts or the details are placed next to one another. Syncretism, by contrast, is thinking about the whole without relating it to the parts (a sort of primitive Gestalt conceptualization).

All this mental activity is what Piaget calls "pre-conceptual thought," and it is clear that the subsequent stages of development rest upon this second stage and are shaped by it. But it may even be argued that juxtaposition and syncretism represent comparison in its simplest and least developed form.

Piaget describes stage 3 as the threshold of operational thinking. Just as the preceding stage was marked by a rapid increase in speech, so this one is marked by increasing social involvement and sharing, as well as further language development. So far as thought processes of this stage are concerned, juxtaposition and syncretism begin to decline, and the details and the totality begin to be seen as a related whole.

This outline of Piaget's stages of mental development is sufficient for our purposes. At all stages, and with many examples drawn from his own careful observation of children, Piaget illustrates the growth of intellectual ability by drawing attention to how the young relate things: one thing to another, details to the whole, self to others, single items to classes of items (i.e., single facts to variables). Under normal circumstances, by the time adolescence is reached a "complete" system of thinking is available to the individual. It is a system independent of the context, an autonomous instrument that can be applied to all kinds of data. Propositional thinking and hypothesis-deductive reasoning are among the by-products. And all the way through, relating and comparing have been central.

The purpose of this brief disquisition on Piaget is to argue (if this is indeed at all necessary) that comparison is inherent in human thinking and that the development of this one faculty is in fact entwined in the development of all the human thinking processes. Cultivation of the one faculty is thus a particular form of advancing the total capacity to think, the capacity to draw meaning from things and experiences and to generate new ideas from them.

Metaphors and the Progress of Knowledge

The third leg of the argument addresses the question of how we think generally in advancing knowledge at a more sophisticated level: as students and as researchers seeking to expand our grasp of the world around us. We are here concerned with the ubiquitous use of metaphor as a tool for achieving knowledge, explaining parts of the unknown, and expanding understanding.

A familiar example of the role of metaphor in scientific discovery was dramatically presented in the television series and the book by Jonathan Miller entitled The Body in Question. It was not until the sixteenth century that William Harvey conceived of the way in which the heart functioned, as a pump for the circulatory system. This notion, with some elaborations, remains valid to this day. Harvey himself acquired no startling new evidence (the empirical evidence provided by Vesalius was certainly adequate, and what Galen knew in the first century, though incomplete, was not irrelevant). Why then, asks Miller, did it take so long -- at least sixteen centuries -- for understanding of the heart to develop to this point? Because satisfactory metaphors for thinking about what was seen were lacking: "In primitive societies, where technical images are few and far between and very simple at that, most explanatory metaphors are drawn from nature.... But the development of technology created a new stock of metaphors -- not simply extra metaphors, but ones altogether different in their logical character," ¹¹ Only after pumps and pumplike engines had become widely used in mining and civil engineering, and only when fountains and fire-fighting equipment had become familiar sights in the growing cities of preindustrial Europe, was it possible for the pump to be thought of and accepted as a satisfactory metaphor for the working of the human heart.

Another example from human anatomy is even more familiar. More has been discovered about the workings of the brain in the past two decades than in several preceding centuries. Consider some of the terms widely used by cognitive psychologists and educators to describe various brain functions: thinking is "information processing"; learning to read, to comprehend, and to communicate consists of encoding and decoding symbols; consciousness is "a feedback mechanism"; memory is a matter of "data storage and retrieval." The most illuminating contemporary metaphor for the brain is the computer. It is irresistible because it helps to fill in pieces of a model that purports to explain an unknown territory for whose description we lacked a language. In this way, it provides us with a theory of human functioning that explains large parts of what was previously a mystery to us.

In his analyses of the logic of scientific explanation, Ernest Nagel provides a host of examples from mathematics and physics to demonstrate how general analogies and particular metaphors serve to bridge the gap between familiar facts and new experiences and to articulate new theories. ¹² In a similar vein, Thomas Kuhn, discussing the role of what he calls paradigms, cites examples from the physical sciences of new models or conceptualizations (he frequently uses the term "puzzle-solutions") facilitating giant steps forward from the known into the unknown regions of scientific knowledge. ¹³

It is not in the physical and natural sciences alone that metaphor plays an important role in discovery. In the social sciences generally, and in history specifically, much of our knowledge is shaped by powerful metaphors. We use such terms as "the forces of history"; we refer to the youth, maturity, and decline of peoples or cultures, to the ebb and flow of social movements, to the rise and fall of nations. As Isaiah Berlin points out, this metaphorical language conveys the idea of an inexorable, fixed time order. ¹⁴ Such metaphors may be misleading, but they are pointers to categories which are helpful, if only to a limited degree. (It is worth noting that the metaphors that Berlin cites are all, to use Miller's phrase, "drawn from nature," simple and primitive.)

It is tempting to continue listing more of the metaphors we have lived by in expanding our grasp of the universe. But we must now pay some attention to examining the nature of the metaphor in our thinking, its function in helping us discover new knowledge, and some of the problemsas well as advantages entailed in using it.

Common speech is full of expressions that were originally used figuratively but have now lost their original meaning and are used literally: the leg of a table, for example, or the head of a hammer. And it is probably impossible to compose more than a few sentences without having recourse to an explicit metaphor, since figurative speech is a common tendency in human communication. This tendency may not, for most people, be deliberate or conscious, though in the hands of a poet, scientist, or teacher the metaphor is likely to be thoughtfully and self-consciously used, but as Nagel observes, "the widespread use of metaphors . . . testifies to a pervasive human talent for finding resemblances between new experiences and familiar facts. . . ." "Analogies help to assimilate the new to the old, and prevent novel explanatory premises from being radically unfamiliar." And ". . . the desire to explain new domains of fact in terms of something already familiar" has controlled important developments in the history of scientific knowledge in all areas and disciplines. ¹⁵

We must, however, draw attention to a number of caveats associated with how metaphors work. A metaphor or a model may be used to express a theoretical formulation, but it is not itself a theory. Correspondence must be demonstrated between the set of phenomena requiring explanation and the model itself, and, as Nagel argues, in attempts at scientific explanation there are certain rules of correspondence. A model may be an intellectual trap as well as a valuable tool if some inessential part is mistaken for a key feature of the theory it represents. The researcher will become distracted by spurious problems in his attempt to make the model fit the facts (or vice versa) and thus be led into unproductive efforts, all because of this basic error of confusing the model with the theory itself or, to put it in other words, of mistaking the vehicle for the journey.

As already indicated, figurative expressions are so fundamental to human thinking and communication processes that the use of a metaphor may not always be a deliberate or conscious act. If we do not pay attention to the limits of the resemblances between the reality and the metaphor or the familiar and the new (or between any of the sets of items we are comparing), we risk serious error. We may take a concept from a domain where its use is legitimate and use it in another where it is not. As Nagel points out, "...words like 'force,' 'law,' and 'cause' are occasionally still used with decided anthropomorphic overtones that are echoes of their origins." Nevertheless, a sense of even vague similarities between the old and new may be a starting point for an advance in knowledge, and "when reflection becomes critically self-conscious ... [these vague similarities] may come to be developed into carefully formulated analogies and hypotheses that can serve as fruitful instruments of systematic research." ¹⁶ In another context, that of explanation in political science, Isaiah Berlin also acknowledges that metaphors may distort as well as explain. But in the end, he is not seriously concerned: "the fact that many metaphors have proved fatal, or at least misleading, [does not] tend to show that all metaphors can or should be eliminated...." ¹⁷

The history of the development of human knowledge provides many examples of metaphors that failed to explain phenomena satisfactorily, leading researchers into unproductive directions and unsolvable puzzles. While it is in the nature of such conceptual models to serve the purposes of explanation for a period (perhaps a very long one), eventually they fail in the face of new and unanswered puzzles. Then the old metaphor, well established in the minds of experts in a field of study, serves as an obstruction to further solutions. This pattern of development is exactly what Kuhn argues in his disquisition on the role of paradigms in scientific revolutions. Explanatory models, he argues, have similar functions: "Among other things they supply the group with preferred or permissible analogies and metaphors. By doing so they help to determine what will be accepted as an explanation and as a puzzle-solution; conversely, they assist in the determination of the roster of unsolved puzzles, and in the evaluation of the importance of each." ¹⁸ But the "group," that is, a given scientific community, may be forced to confront what Kuhn terms an "anomaly" or a "violation of expectation." In the face of such a puzzle, a new paradigm is proposed, one that replaces the previous one that was inadequate to explain the unexpected phenomena. A paradigm is an entire set of beliefs, values, and techniques associated with a particular field of study, and it includes a set of concrete puzzle-solutions in the form of models or examples. A scientific revolution occurs when a general and widely held paradigm is replaced by another that is fundamentally different. The new paradigm marks a large advance in knowledge because it provides new models and metaphors for understanding. By the same token, the old metaphors are shown to have been incorrect, at least in part, or misleading and limiting in their explanatory power.

These observations on the role of metaphors in knowledge cannot be concluded without some reference to language and aesthetics. In the Poetics, Aristotle praises the metaphor: "The greatest thing by far is to have command of metaphor." But the argument made here goes beyond the traditional view of metaphor. It is not merely a decorative rhetorical device, as Aristotle views it, but a characteristic form of human communication that is used, whether well or not, in teaching and in study. Metaphor is inherent in human thinking, and its main function is to help us bridge the known and the unknown, as children, as adults, and as researchers. The very nature of thinking, as I. A. Richards observes, is metaphoric and proceeds by comparison:

"What is comparison? It may be several different things: it may be just a putting together of two things to let them work together; it may be a study of them both to see how they are like and how unlike one another; or it may be a process of calling attention to their likenesses or a method of drawing attention to certain aspects of the one through the co-presence of the other." ¹⁹

Conclusion

To summarize my argument, metaphor is comparison. It is inherent in human thinking and communication, and it is central to furthering the progress of science, not just the physical and natural sciences, but all sectors of human knowledge. There are some real problems involved in using metaphors, for they may impede progress in discovery, but they serve as valuable tools when used consciously and with deliberation, even though they may, in the first instance, emerge in that flash of intuition and insight that characterizes great scientists and great poets. The metaphors that prevail in comparative education, as in the social sciences generally, need to be critically examined and new ones invented, since those we rely on are rather simple, overworked, derivative, and limiting. We need periodically to reexamine first principles and earlier practices. The very metaphors we use to represent our own field of study need scrutiny. For example, we might again consider the concept of comparative education as natural history, perhaps regenerating interest in comparative educational taxonomy; or we might conceive of our work as a geography of education and direct our creative energies toward developing original and visionary maps of the world educational scene with new and provocative projections. Metaphors, if they are to be illuminating and useful, must be scrutinized critically and new ones periodically considered.

What then, in conclusion, is the comparative mind? In the first place, like all other human mental activity it is inclined toward figurative thinking, using metaphors, models, and paradigms to explain the unknown in terms of the known. But the comparative mind is also like the minds of others engaged in the deliberate search to extend knowledge. It is curious, especially drawn to puzzles concerning human behavior. It is creative and flexible, being capable of moving back and forth between the particular item and the whole pattern, between the facts and the variable, between data and theories, between contemplative study and other kinds of activity. In sum, the comparative mind is a particular case of the general human cognitive condition and an even more particular case of the inquiring mind, whether scientist, philosopher, or artist. And its most special attribute is that it is drawn to the fascinating game of solving complex puzzles and playing with ideas and facts through comparison -- and the use of metaphors.

NOTES

1. Edmund J. King, "Students, Teachers and Researchers in Comparative Education," Comparative Education Review 2 (June 1958): 33-36; and Robert L. Koehl, "The Comparative Study of Education: Prescription and Practice," Comparative Education Review 21 (June/October 1977): 177-94. [BACK]

2. It may be helpful at this point to distinguish between metaphors and several other terms frequently used in this essay. "Metaphor" (deriving from a Greek root meaning "to transfer") is the figure of speech in which a name or a descriptive term is transferred to an object different from, but analogous to, the one to which it is properly applicable. A "paradigm" (also from a Greek root, connoting "to show side by side," i.e., to juxtapose) is a pattern or exemplar. A "theory" is, of course, a scheme or system of ideas held to explain or account for a set of facts or phenomena, or a statement of what are held to be general laws, principles, or causes. And "model" refers to a representation of a theory in some kind of structural form; here the phenomena are related to one another in terms of the set of ideas composing the theory. Any theory, model, or paradigm is likely to comprise a major metaphor (or set of metaphors); alternatively, any metaphor suggests or assumes a theory, model, or paradigm. [BACK]

3. Edmund J. King, Other Schools and Ours, 5th ed. (New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1979). [BACK]

4. Richard Boyd, "Metaphor and Theory Change: What Is 'Metaphor' a Metaphor For?' in Metaphor and Thought, ed. Andrew Ortony (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979). Boyd distinguishes between pedagogical metaphors (used for instructional purposes) and metaphors that function to cover gaps in knowledge. [BACK]

5. Andreas Kazamias and Byron G. Messialas, "Comparative Education," in Encyclopedia of Educational Research, 5th ed.(New York: Macmillan, 1982), pp. 309-17. See also, e.g., Robert L. Koehl, "Cultural Imperialism as Education: An Indictment, Comparative Education Review 19 (June 1975): 276-85; Martin Carnoy, "Education as Cultural Imperialism: A Reply," Comparative Education Review 19 (June 1975): 286-89; Philip G. Altbach and Gail P. Kelly, Education and Colonialism (New York: Longmans, 1978); J. Karabel and A. H. Halsey, eds., Power and Ideology in Education (New York: Oxford University Press, 1977). [BACK]

6. W. Lloyd Warner et al., Who Shall Be Educated? (New York: Harper, 1944). [BACK]

7. Ernest Nagel, The Structure of Science: Problems in the Logic of Scientific Explanation (New York: Harcourt Brace, 1961), p. 465. [BACK]

8. Zenon W. Pylyshyn, "Metaphorical Imprecision and the 'Top-Down' Research Strategy," in Ortony, ed., pp. 420-36. [BACK]

9. Jean Piaget, Play, Dreams, and Imitation (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1967); P. G. Richmond, An Introduction to Piaget (New York: Basic, 1970); Ellen Winner et al., "First Metaphors," New Directions for Child Development 3 (1979): 29-41. [BACK]

10. George Z. F. Bereday, Comparative Method in Education (New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1964). [BACK]

11. Jonathan Miller, The Body in Question (New York: Random House, 1978), p. 181. [BACK]

12. See Nagel. [BACK]

13. Thomas S. Kuhn, The Stucture of Scientific Revolutions (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970). [BACK]

14. Isaiah Berlin, Concepts and Categories (New York: Viking, 1979); see esp. his chapters on "Logical Translation" and "The Concept of Scientific Inquiry." [BACK]

15. Nagel, pp. 108, 46, 95-96. [BACK]

16. Ibid., p. 108. [BACK]

17. Berlin, pp. 158-59. [BACK]

18. Kuhn, p. 184. [BACK]

19. I. A. Richards, The Philosophy of Rhetoric (London: Oxford University Press, 1938), p. 94; see esp. his chapter on "Metaphor." For further illumination of the function of metaphor as a cognitive instrument (in linguistics and philosophy), see also Boyd (n. 4 above); Max Black, "More about Metaphor," in Ortony, ed. (n. 4 above), pp. 19-43; Hugh G. Petrie, "Metaphor and Learning," in Ortony, ed.; George Lakoff and Mark Johnson, Metaphors We Live By (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980). [BACK]